Silent War
by MartyCessna
Summary: Joint writing between me and some friends about the power struggles following the Dominion War.
1. Before the Storm

Silent War

_**This is a story written by me and two of my friends as a roleplay set at the end of DS9. I'm writing mostly as Garak, Odo, Quark, and Bashir. **_

It had been a quiet day. Too quiet, if any of the Cardassians trying to look busy had asked Weyoun. But they didn't. They sat on their screens and consoles, pretending to work on a new masterplan - one that would finally work - and ignored him. Weyoun had returned the favour, and acted like he believed they were really working. Of course he knew they were pushing random buttons. Of course he knew they had no damn idea how to make the next move in this war, not to speak of a victory. But all that wasn't new. It had been like this for months now. Nothing happened. And that wasn't good. At least the Cardassians left him in peace for now. Weyoun knew very well they didn't like him being around, watching them, controlling their work. And somehow, it even amused him a bit to know that. Well, had amused him. For a few days, months ago. When things didn't look this bad. When the Ketracel White facility was still there. When the Jem'Hadar were not aware of it being destroyed by a Klingon-Romulan task force, three months ago.

Weyoun's eyes wandered to a monitor in the corner of the room. Maybe just a bad habit. Maybe a desperate hope. The screen still looked like 20 minutes ago. 20 hours, 20 days, 20 weeks ago. The frequency, permanently held open for incoming Breen transmissions, was untouched like a Vulcan virgin. There was nothing, really nothing, indicating the Breen had even recieved the invitation to a meeting. Some weeks ago, a sensor outpost went on alert, but the "Breen ship" near Cardassian territory turned out to be just another minor ionic anomaly, caused by just another minor ionic storm.

Slowly, Weyoun went to a window. Acting bored had never been this difficult. The roofs of the Cardassian capital looked like they always did. The evening sun reflected brightly on copper spikes, reaching into the red-orange sky. But this sight didn't seem peaceful at all to Weyoun. Besides the missing sense for art and beauty, a bad feeling spread out in his mind. The repairs on the Jem'Hadar ship yards were weeks behind the planned schedule. The Ketracel White would, all casualties calculated, run out in the next 6 months, turning the Jem'Hadar into an uncontrolled army, raging against everything and everyone at first - and then kill them. But before that would happen, they'd have enough time to cause serious damage to the alpha quadrant, Cardassia included. If only those stubborn Breen would answer the Dominion's call...

In moments like this, and Weyoun had certainly had quite a few of them in the past weeks, he envied the Bajorans. Their "prophets" always sent them signs, and prophecies, and emessaries. They would recognize the face of a dead relative in a puddle, or an ancient Bajoran symbol on a rock, and praise it as a sign from the prophets. And be all happy, positive and cheerful. Weyoun was neither of it. His gods never sent him signs. Actually, the god in the room next door had returned to his liquid state some days ago and not taken on a humanoid form ever since. Not that this was any better. When the founder was in humanoid form, he had told Weyoun to finally take care of the growing problems, come up with a quick and easy solution, and if not "someone" would have to pay for it. Weyoun had no doubt this someone would be him, and remembering that, he was glad the founder remained in liquid state for now. But it was just as certain that it wouldn't last forever. And when the founder returned to humanoid form, Weyoun better had something promising planned.

Yes, the Bajorans were to envy. It was so simple to keep them happy. A symbol in the dirt here, a blessing by the emessary there... Emessary. Oh, what Weyoun had given for an emessary! Someone to tell him the gods had sent him a vision, and he knew exactly how to end this misery and start a new, brighter, better tomorrow. But no. His gods had sent him this picture perfect moron Toran, claiming the rank of a legit, not even realizing he was a puppet of the Dominion and...

...just walking into the room.

"Weyoun! We need to talk!"

Legit Toran stood in the middle of the room, trying to burn holes in Weyoun's back with his glance. The Vorta just sighed and slowly turned around. "Of course! How can I be of assistance?" The words came so easily, and Weyoun meant it so little. The only assistance he had in mind for Toran was helping him to jump out of the next window. Toran pointed to the door of his private room, turned around without another word and walked into his office. Weyoun rolled his eyes, but followed him.

Toran was sitting at his desk, studying a stellar map in front of him. Without looking up, he said: "This is ridicolous. We just sit and wait, with the Federation as vulnurable as never before." Weyoun didn't answer. He had heard so many speeches like this from Toran, he wasn't even really listening. "And that is why I will call the shots now. I put a task force together; a small group, mostly Obsidian Order. They will take back Terok Nor."

Weyoun's eyes immediately jumped from the statue on Toran's side board to the Legit. Usually they irritated the person Weyoun looked at; this time they were full of it of their own. It took a few moments before the Vorta managed to speak. "What?!" was all he could say though. Toran, obviously satisfied with this reaction, smiled and looked up. "A task force of the Obsidian Order is going to take back Terok Nor", he slowly said, like talking to an idiot. "Didn't you say all the time something must happen?" Toran grinned. He made it no secret that he enjoyed Weyoun's confusion. "And now, something _will_ happen!" He got up and began walking around behind his desk. "But... this is a very bad idea!" Weyoun tried to protest. "We can't depend on a small task force of... Cardassians!" Toran gave him an amused glance. "Well, the way I see it, you don't have a choice. Your Jem'Hadar couldn't get the job done, and the task force is already on the way!" He grabbed a bottle of Kanar from a board behind the desk. "We should drink to their success!" Weyoun just stared at Toran, trying hard to not show his anger. The founders would not be pleased by this suicidal plan...

Garak placed another pair of hemmed pants on a shelf and took a moment to glare at his machinery. Business was booming in a way that would make most mere tailors excited, especially with the current economy. But Garak just sighed at the padd containing the orders of a half-dozen station occupants and picked up a bolt of cloth.

"Garak, you're late for lunch."

Garak looked up to see Dr. Bashir standing in the doorway to his shop and smiled, "Oh dear, I must have lost track of the time. As you can see, things have been picking up lately."

Bashir glanced appraisingly at the piles of fabric on counters and then back at Garak, "Do you have time now? I'm starving!"

"I think I could use some intellectual stimulation, myself," Garak nodded and joined Bashir at the door. Together, they headed to the replimat.

_later at the replimat_

"So what will it be, today?" Garak smiled, "A little politics with your pizza?"

Bashir tilted his head in thought, "Actually, I was thinking literature today."

Garak pretended to look disappointed, "Didn't we discuss that yesterday?"

"And we never finished," Bashir shook his head, "I still say that you're wrong about Shakespeare."

"And I still say that Earth literature lacks intrigue," Garak argued.

Bashir took a bite of his pizza and sat back, "Then I think we should just agree to disagree."

"That's probably best," Garak sighed, "though simply disagreeing is far more interesting."

"No arguements there," Bashir smiled, "so what exactly did you want to discuss about politics?"

(over the comm) _Dr Bashir to the infirmary!_

"Ah," Bashir looked regretful, "looks like we'll have to continue this later."

"It appears so," Garak replied evenly, "Tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow," Bashir stood and strode quickly away.

Garak stared down at his untouched food. He started to pick up his fork. _Actually, I'm not hungry. I guess it's back to uniform repair. _He stopped, wiped his mouth, and headed to his shop.

The lights were dimmed, the doors were locked, the Kanar was almost empty. Some floors above, that annoying little Vorta was blaming Cardassia for the current, more than miserable situation. For the missing supplies from the gamma quadrant, the high causalties, and probably also the bad weather. Legit Toran, locked in his office, was probably reading the news like there were ever any good ones. His stupid task force plan was doomed, no way a group of barely experienced low ranks could take back Terok Nor. Of course, Toran had made it sound all genius, and maybe he could catch the Vorta off guard with it. But not Damar. He knew the members of this so-called task force. Some went to school with his son. Others were even younger. None had any significant experience in anything, save the commanding officer, who had been stationed on border patrols for the past six months. What a task force!

Damar grinned bitterly and drank another sip from the bottle. He had maybe even used the glass, if he hadn't thrown it at the wall an hour ago. Unbelievable this idiot Toran got promoted after Dukat disappeared! It should have been him, _Gul_ Damar. But no. That arrogant little elf ear had promoted some random moron, just to make his point: I don't like you. Of course, he hadn't said that, or would ever admit it. But Damar knew it was the reason, and Weyoun knew that he knew. One sip later, the bottle was empty. Damar took a deep breathe and got up.

It took about ten minutes until Weyoun noticed Damar in the door to his office. Actually, less, but he had decided to ignore his visitor for a bit. "Damar! How can I help you?" The Vorta's smile was fake as fake can be, and he didn't even try to make it look more believable. _By taking a bath in acid_, Damar thought. "We need to talk about this task force", he said instead. "Oh, yes, a brillant idea, isn't it?" That Vorta was so stupid, it just had to hurt. "No, its idiotic", Damar replied. "They will fail." Weyoun shook his head and gave Damar a pitiful glance. "You really need to hide your envy a bit better", he said. "Toran had a great idea, while you just had a great amount of Kanar. You see the difference?" "The only difference I see is that I was Dukat's right hand, and Toran was commander of some mining colony." Damar crossed his arms across the chest and leaned against the wall. "A pity, I agree." Weyoun nodded and got up to walk up and down behind his desk. "But that was just another proof how unorganized Cardassian politics were before the Dominion came to help. A man with ideas, visions, drive... wasted on a mining colony!" Damar sighed. "Oh really? Be sure I'll be around to see your stupid face when that excuse of a task force gets blown into pieces before they even reach Bajoran space!" He rushed out of the office, back to his quarters; picking up some Kanar on the way. It was time to remind someone of an old favour..


	2. The Message

As he returned from his shop at the end of the workday, Garak was surprised to see a message light start blinking on the console screen on the desk in his quarters. He was even more surprised to see how heavily encrypted the message was. His eyes widened as he sent back his access code. A Cardassian face appeared on the screen, slightly weaving around.

"Well, Mr. Damar. Long time no see," Garak addressed the face on the screen. He waited to find out what the person on the other end would say.

Damar's fingers clutched the Kanar bottle so strong, he almost broke it. Ten minutes ago, this had seemed to be the best idea ever. Now the doubts came drifting to the surface, but some more Kanar would drown them to where they belonged. He opened the bottle and took a sip. Much better.

"Garak, we don't have much time", he said to the screen. "For now, this channel is secure and I intend to keep it that way. I don't want to take unneccessary risks by keeping it open for smalltalk, so let's just save the how-is-your-family part of the conversation for some other day."

"Well, I did not expect you to call for smalltalk", Garak replied. "But then, I'm surprised to hear from you at all." Damar's eyes drifted away from the screen, through the room, and finally found hold on the Kanar. "Cardassia needs you", he finally said. "The Order has one last mission for you." He couldn't see Garak's amused face. "The Order has exiled me. I didn't consider myself to be in a very helpful positon for the past years, or even a citizen of Cardassia. And suddenly the Dominion requires my services?" Damar looked up to the screen again. "Not the Dominion. Cardassia."

Garak considered the possibility it was just the alcohol that made Damar sound so serious. At first, seeing the bottle, hearing the slight lisping in Damar's voice, he had been certain this was not the man he remembered. But in this moment, it seemed he had returned for a moment, stepped out of the shadows and pushed the pitiful version of Damar aside. "Then, what does Cardassia need from me?" Garak slowly asked, watching the face on the screen carefully.

"You won't like it, I don't really like it either", Damar replied. "But the point is, Weyoun will like it even less." Now Garak smiled. "I'm all ears!" Damar nodded briefly. "And the best part is, Dukat will really hate this." "If the intelligence reports are accurate, Dukat left Cardassia months ago", Garak said. And added in his thoughts _...and I didn't expect you to plot against your mentor..._ "Yes, he did. But it is not like the flawed Starfleet intelligence thinks." Damar opened the bottle for another sip. He was walking a thin line, and the company of his liquid friend made him feel better. "Dukat did not simply 'vanish'. He is on an undercover mission Weyoun assigned him to. It was a farce though, the original idea was an 'accident' to eliminate Dukat once and for all. I warned him and helped him get out of the danger zone, and gave him a new mission. But..." He stopped and Garak could see the fingers close around the bottle neck some tighter. "But _what_?" he asked, though he already had an idea how this story would go on. For some moments, Damar said nothing and just stared at the bottle. Then, he finally looked up again and no doubt, this was the man Garak remembered. The anger he could barely disguise in his eyes gave him away. "But that was before I knew his last order, or suggestion, or however you want to call it, to promote the idiot commander of some mining colony instead of me. That is how he thanked me years of loyalty!" The last bit of control crept away like a beaten dog, and when Damar lowered the bottle, it was almost empty.

"I understand", Garak nodded. "Not the Order or Cardassia needs me, your bruised ego does." Damar's eyes glittered in anger. "Call it what you want. You know you still owe me a favour. Me, and _Tain_." He paused and seemed to enjoy the shock Garak failed to hide completely. "Or is your loyalty to your mentor even more a farce than mine?" Damar added with a grin. Slowly, Garak shook his head. "Then I will transfer the instructions for your mission now."

Garak let the screen go blank before he allowed every last ounce of disbelief to show on his face. It had been nearly more than even his exceptional lying talents could handle to hold it in. He sank back against his desk chair and glanced over the instructions. What he saw caused the entire chain reaction of disbelief to shudder like a quaking table of dominoes through his thoughts.

_Damar has finally just snapped. Lost his mind completely._

Garak re-read the instructions, unsure that he'd picked up every nuance.

_However, it does have the merit of making quite a few people look like idiots. Dukat and that Vorta, especially. Hmm._

Deepeppeep!

Garak jumped up at the sound of his door chime. He quickly deleted all of the files and shut off his screen. Smoothly, he turned around and went to the door.

"If you're from room service, tell them I already ate," Garak called through the door. He opened it and smiled at the expressionless man in his doorway, "Why Constable, so kind of you to drop by..."

"I'm not here for a visit, Garak," Odo glared. Garak considered the constable's expression, _at least, I think that's a glare. At times it's really hard to tell when he is actually glaring and when he is simply looking. Quite wonderful ability, really _The changeling's eyes scanned the room quickly, "I'm here to investigate an unauthorized coded subspace message that was sent from the station a short while ago."

Garak carefully calculated how much surprise was neccessary and allowed it to spread over his face, "Well, I don't remember making any calls recently."

Odo's head turned side to side as he suspiciously eyed the room, "Are you certain the Order hasn't tried to contact you? Or old friends on Cardassia perhaps?"

"I hope not," Garak replied with sincerity, "I doubt I'd want to hear anything the Order had to say...although it would be more likely they'd send someone to 'tell' me in person. In that case, I promise, you'll be the first to know. In the interest of station security, of course." Garak smiled warmly.

"Hmph," Odo grunted, giving the Cardassian a wary look. He walked to the screen and turned it on.

Garak followed him, "All right, in the interest of my _own_ security as well. I would really rather live to see old age than recieve 'messages' from the Order."

Odo scrolled through the few messages on Garak's recieved list and stood up, "If you hear anything, let me know."

"Of course," Garak nodded, showing the constable out, "and don't hesitate to drop by anytime for a chat."

With one final glare/glance, Odo left. Garak let the door close and sighed. _That will definitely not be the end of it_ he thought _Odo is too dogged an investigator. Still, I think it's worth the risk._


	3. Aesthetics

Sometimes Weyoun wondered what others might think about his office. The Cardassians were already quite minimalistic, but even they had some decorative items in their offices. Weyoun's desk did not contain anything he didn't need to work. No framed pictures, no little statues, nothing. The walls had no pictures, the window board had no plants. But a missing sense for aesthetics didn't make up for a very well existing sense for a public image. Maybe it would even help to adapt to the Cardassians, to find a common ground. Things had gotten slightly out of control lately. It wouldn't be the worst option to get a better base for discussions. Plus, it might turn out to be relaxing to decorate the office - a break from wondering who was the bigger idiot, Toran or Damar, seemed a welcome option right now.

**One hour later, Weyoun's office**

"Toran, Damar!" Weyoun stood behind his desk, looking satisfied and relaxed for the first time in weeks when the Cardassians walked in. "What in the world...?" Toran managed to say, letting his eyes stray through the chaos. Damar didn't say anything, he just turned around, left the office, just to enter again a moment later. "What happened here?" he finally addressed the Vorta. "I made my office more comfortable", Weyoun explained. "I thought it might help to have a more pleasing atmosphere to talk things out." He tried to read the Cardassian faces, but remained uncertain if their surprise was of a positive or negative nature. "I have no time for this", Toran stated. "Rulak and the task force are awaiting my communication." He briefly looked through the room, shook his head in disbelief, then rushed out.

"Is anything wrong with my decoration?" Weyoun asked, a bit disappointed his efforts had obviously failed to create a common ground with Toran. Damar just stood in the middle of the room, hardly trying to not laugh out loud. "This looks like a Bajoran flea market!" He turned around to Weyoun, still grinning. "I never figured out how it would effect you to have no sense for aesthetics, but now...?" He laughed again, and slight anger arose in Weyoun. "So, this is not a more pleasing atmosphere for our briefings?" he pressed out. Damar's laughter was all of an answer he didn't need. "Oh, if you are to brief anyone about real bad taste, this will do fine!" Damar grabbed a chair and tried to pull it closer, making two totally misplaced statues fall off in the process. Instead of picking them up, he simply left them on the floor and took a seat. Weyoun walked around the table and took a seat himself; a palm plant on the table blocked Damar's view now. The Cardassian sighed, amused though, then put the palm aside to see the Vorta again. The confusion and anger in his unstable eyes were just too much of a little triumph to miss out.

"Close the door." Weyoun stared at Damar, waiting for him to carry out the order. This was way too funny to spoil the moment. The Vorta looked so angry, confused and disappointed, Damar decided to play along for a while. Just to treasure this look on Weyoun's face. It would have the same effect humans achieved by imagining the audience was naked when they were nervous about a speech. Damar smiled and got up to close the door, and was more than surprised to see a bottle of Kanar on the table when he came back. "What's that?" he asked, still amused. "Are you asking me to drink until I find your decoration 'more pleasing' or something?" Weyoun slowly moved the bottle across the table, towards Damar. "I must apologize", he said, sounding regretful and ashamed. Damar watched him closely, now less amused than confused. Was this some sort of Vorta joke he didn't get? "For what _exactly_?" he asked. "I've been misjudging you", Weyoun replied. "You are right, the task force will fail. It is a complete joke. As is Toran."

The smile returned to Damar's face. This was going to be even better than he had imagined. This wasn't just a naked audience, it was a naked audience dancing an embarrassing choreography, wearing silly hats. "Now we are talking", he grinned and grabbed the Kanar. "I am aware that you are unhappy about Toran's promotion", Weyoun continued. "And so am I, but it was not really _my_ choice. Dukat suggested it to the founder, and I had no real say in it. I thought they would have a reason, it isn't on me to question gods. But it is on me to question Dukat." _Funny_, Damar thought, _a mad idiot questions an idiotic madman..._ "Lucky me I'm in a position to question both", he said instead. Weyoun nodded and Damar could still not really see through the regretful mask to the real purpose of this conversation. "I am also aware that you helped Dukat to escape my little trap", Weyoun continued. "And that you... suggested him a new assignment. I will not mention it to anyone, in case you worry about it."

Slowly, Damar put the bottle back on the table. This was going in a very delicate direction, and it was one of these rare moments when even he realized it wasn't a good time to get drunk. "And you wonder what this assignment is, yes?" he asked. Weyoun shook his head. "I don't really care. The point is, will Dukat return from this mission?" Damar wasn't sure what answer the Vorta expected. "Do you _want_ him to return?" he asked. Now Weyoun smiled, and it didn't even look fake this time. "We both don't want that." He paused, tried to read Damar's face, failed and added: "Could it be arranged that he will... remain wherever he is?" "It could", Damar smiled back. "What's in for me?" "Shouldn't you ask what's in for Toran?" Weyoun replied. "It could be arranged that he... gets a new assignment. You know, someone really has to carry out Dukat's original... mission." "And you would be in need of a new Legit, correct?" Damar grinned. Weyoun nodded and got up. "I'm afraid if Toran gets assigned to such an... important mission... We would have to find someone to replace him in his current position." Damar grabbed the Kanar from the table and got up, too. "We have a deal", he said and walked to the door.

"Could you spare some time to help me arrange the decorative objects in a more pleasing way?" Weyoun quickly said before Damar could leave the room. The Cardassian sighed, smiling, and stopped. "Guess I could finish this Kanar here", he said.


	4. So It Begins

Garak strolled down the empty hallway, struck as he always was by the relative quietness of the night shift. With most of the station's occupants asleep, now was the perfect time to start the game that was soon to be afoot. _Help me, I'm thinking Shakespeare._ Garak headed for the Promenade as quietly as he could. It, too, was silent save the hushed conversations of a few of Odo's night watchmen. Garak peered at the two watchmen. One was a Bajoran, the other was turned away from Garak. The tailor waited until he was sure the Bajoran wasn't looking, slipped into his closed shop, and started tapping furiosuly at his scheduling padd. When the entire schedule was rearranged, Garak looked it over. Nodding with satisfaction, he set it down and started to leave.

Instead of leaving, however, he found himself face-to-face with Odo. _I could be imagining things, but he looks grumpy._ "Good morning, Constable. What seems to be the matter? You look as though you woke up on the wrong side of the bucket."

"I got a report that someone was sneaking around your shop," Odo replied.

"Well, thank you for coming to investigate," Garak smiled, "but thankfully it was only me."

"Might I ask what you are doing in here at this hour?" Odo performed his version of a sneer, "Planting explosives?"

"As entertaining as it would be," Garak tilted his head, "no, I am not going to blow up my shop. Again." He picked up a piece of cloth from atop a dress form and held it at eye level, "I simply couldn't sleep and thought I'd get a head start on the day's work."

"In the dark?" Odo crossed his arms in front of him.

Garak gave the changeling a sideways glance, "I do some of my best work in the dark."

"I get the feeling that you're up to something, Garak," Odo frowned.

Garak sighed, "You're absolutely right. I am planning to single-handedly take control of the station and hand it over to the Cardassian government."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Odo demanded sarcastically, "if you need any help, you know where to find me."

"Some internal problems, Constable?" Garak asked, immediately interested.

"Just some issues with Starfleet. Nothing _you_ need to worry about," Odo huffed. He shot Garak a disgusted glare and turned to leave.

"If you need something to distract you from your troubles," Garak smiled, "I have just the thing. You see, I overheard two of my customers whispering about a planned attack on the station. If you're interested in the advice of a lowly tailor, I have a few suggestions on how to strengthen the station's defense systems against a Cardassian attack."

"Oh?" Odo's eyes sparked, "and would this lowly tailor happen to know something I don't about security procedures?"

"It's amazing the things you pick up during years of alterations," Garak grinned.

Odo narrowed his already hooded eyes and nodded, "Alright. Let's discuss some of your suggestions."


	5. When It Rains, Kanar Pours

The thunder rolled across the deep purple sky, the air - usually dry and hot, was sticky and thick as Kanar. Rain, with drops the size of small stones, went down, playing an unstate rhythm on the copper spiked roofs of the capital. The wind, hot, undecided, changed its direction from minute to minute, whipping up the water in the puddles. It was this time of the year when Cardassia's weather simply went nuts and Damar was in the right mood to join it.

He threw the empty bottle to the other two ones besides his bed and reached for the fourth one on his night table. Technically, it was the 5th bottle, but he had finished the first one today in Weyoun's office. _With_ Weyoun. The Vorta usually didn't touch Kanar with a ten foot pole though he was one of the very few aliens who didn't mind the taste of it. But things had changed and Damar couldn't really tell why that was. Of course, they had changed to the better. It was much easier to get along with the Vorta now, and that was certainly not a result of the Kanar. Maybe _his_ change of attitude had actually improved the situation. Some days ago, Damar hadn't even briefly considered to spend the afternoon with Weyoun, without being ordered to do so. He hadn't wasted a single thought about participating in such ridicolous activities as decorating the Vorta's office. But yet he had done that and had to admit now - with some plants and decorative items here and there, the room did really look much better. No doubt, the agreement to eliminate Toran and Dukat was quite helpful to accept that the situation with Weyoun had improved, too.

Damar opened the bottle, didn't bother to get a glass - he had given up that after the second bottle - and took a sip. Yes, things went better. Even the Kanar tasted better today, and it already didn't taste bad at all yesterday. Garak would report in a few hours, and so long, Damar planned to celebrate a bit how much brighter the future of Cardassia seemed today - despite the raging weather outside.

A knocking on the door made Damar jump up from his bed. He didn't expect any visitors, and also hadn't hoped for anyone to disturb him. Silently growling, he got up, found his balance and went to open the door.

"Damar, old friend!" Weyoun produced a bottle of Kanar. "I thought we continue yesterday's nice casual conversation!"

It took Damar a moment to process this, but he was already too effected by the Kanar to smell anything suspicious about the situation, as absurd as it was. Even two days ago, with the same level of alcohol clouding his brain, Damar would have realized something was wrong - Weyoun, coming to visit him for a 'casual conversation', bringing Kanar, would have rang all bells marked with 'assassination attempt'. But not today. "How thoughtful", Damar mumbled instead. Weyoun didn't wait to be asked in, he just slipped past Damar into the room and tried to find an empty chair. Clearly, not his own office had needed a makeover. Damar's private quarters were a real mess, and not all decorative objects in the quadrant stood a chance to make it any better. And it didn't require a sense for aesthetics to realize it - a sense for order was totally enough.  
Pieces of clothing, empty plates, weapon parts and an army of empty bottles made the room the least pleasing atmosphere on all Cardassia.

Meanwhile, Damar had realized he was still standing in the open door and the visitor was already inside the room. He closed the door, grabbed the Kanar and returned to his bed; falling on it like a stone, and only thanks to the luck of the drunk not hitting his head on the wall. He glared up to Weyoun, still standing in the middle of the chaos, looking a bit lost in this mess, like the last stand of civilization on a Klingon wedding party. "Really nisse ofyou to drop by!" Damar said. "Take a ss... seat!" Weyoun raised an eyebrow and looked around. "You make it sound so easy..." he sighed, more talking to himself.

**3 hours later**

When Legit Toran decided it was time to update the Vorta about the status of the task force, it took him quite a while to find Weyoun. A guard had finally delivered the hint that he saw him going to Damar's quarters, with a bottle of Kanar, how untypical. Toran had just smiled, nodded and continued his way. It sounded like Weyoun would finally keep his promise and get rid of Damar. A little poison in the Kanar, and oops, no-one would suspect anything - so obvious Damar would finally have reached the limit of Kanar a body can withstand. Toran's mood was good, though he was careful to not let his anticipation show. He reached the door to Damar's quarters and knocked. "Come innn...!"

That was not Weyoun's voice. That was Damar. Toran grinned inside. He would even get to see his rival... pass away tragically, and not simply find a dead body. This was going to be good. He opened the door, made a step inside the room and... froze.

Damar, obviously drunk but just as obviously alive; and Weyoun, just as drunk, sitting... lying... hanging on Damar's bed, surrounded by empty Kanar bottles. A photo album, several military documents, some smaller firearms and random other stuff scattered around them. Weyoun was wearing something that looked suspiciously like the jacket of Damar's dress uniform, including several medals. Between the two drunks was an open book, and from what Toran could see, it was about botany, plants or something like that.

"We dessssided to... put ssome new plantsss in the offisssesss!" Weyoun informed Toran. "It lookss ssso much... fend... fried... friendlier!" Toran just stood there and stared. His eyes scanned the Kanar bottles and his suspicion was confirmed a moment later. The bottle, empty, leaning on Weyoun's leg, was clearly the one he had carefully prepared with a poison no-one could find in an autopsy. And there was no doubt the Vorta had drunken it. The Vorta, with his goddamn annoying resistance to most poisons; and not Damar. "Go ahead. Put your silly plants wherever you wish. I'm sure the founder will be pleased!" Toran pressed out angrily, then he rushed out.


	6. Cookies and Kanar

Garak stared intently at the screen, waiting for the person on the other end to appear. He checked the time. Yes, it was the prearranged meeting time. Where was Damar? _At least the constable won't come barging in here demanding to know who's on the subspace frequency_ Garak sighed.

At last, an image appeared! Damar's eyes seemed to roll around in his head for a moment and finally rested unsettled on Garak. He smiled slowly and took another swig of Kanar. "Garrrrrk...nisss ta see youu. How's the fammmilyyy?"

Garak's mouth opened once before he found words, "If you're referring to my good customers, they're all fine. Everything is in pl..." he trailed off, seeing the Vorta, Weyoun in the background. Weyoun seemed to be playing with some flat, circular objects, holding them out and swirling them around in circles and broad arcs. Garak blinked, "Damar, if I've called at a bad time..."

Damar's head rolled back toward Weyoun at a very odd angle, his neck appearing to nearly snap in the effort. He moaned and found his way back to the screen, "Ohh himmm? My gud friend Weyyy...wayyy...someonnnn ovur therrrre." At this moment, the Vorta suddenly shoved Damar out of the way and held up a plate of cookies to the screen, "wannnt one?" Weyoun grinned, dropping the plate and holding two cookies up to demonstrate. He looked wobbly at one and then half-smiled at the other, "Seee thishh one's Badjorr and dis onne's Terok Norrrr." He seemed to nearly fall over but braced himself with his elbows on the console, "and see theym in orbittt," he whirled them around each other. The cookie representing Bajor flew toward Weyoun's mouth and streaked across his nose. The other made it as far as his ear and stayed perched atop it. The Vorta grinned once more, "Seee it's eazyyy," He bobbled out of the way as Damar's face reappeared.

"Thish iz MYYY conber...sa...station..." Damar drawled, "this is MY frind Gark..." He smiled toothily with one eye half closed, "you're doin finntastic keep it uuuu..." Damar fell out of view. Weyoun watched the Cardassian fall over and giggled. He now had a cookie on his head and had finally gotten one to his mouth. Chocolate was smeared across his nose and one side of his face. "Commm join the parrrrtyyy," Weyoun nodded, "itz fun."

"I think I'll have to pass on that," Garak replied calmly.

"Awwww," Weyoun's face dropped in disappointment, "we'll savvve you a sea...sheee...spot."

The transmission ended, leaving Garak staring at the dark screen. _What was THAT all about?_


	7. Ties of Kanar and Water

The founder was not pleased. Actually, there was a distance of at least 2 quadrants between the founder and "pleased". For the first time in over a week, the changeling had returned to a humanoid form. And picked exactly this very day when Weyoun woke up on the floor of Damar's quarters with a headache that would go down in Dominion history, a Cardassian dress uniform jacket on, and no damn idea what happened in the last couple of hours. It sure had something to do with cookies, potted plants and Kanar from the way the room looked. But all that wasn't even the worst. The worst part was that _Damar_ had been in way better shape when the founder showed up. That _Damar_ had talked him out of this situation, with some speech about "yes, we are aware that Toran's plan is too risky, we had a secret meeting to find a solution for the problem, and we came up with something", making the founder nodding and leaving them alone. _Damar_, a simple soldier with a serious drinking problem and megalomania.

The founder had left the room five minutes ago, and Weyoun still sat on the floor and stared to the closed door. Damar was somewhere in the back of the room, on the replicator, and when he came back, he handed the Vorta a glass of water, then placed himself on the bed. Slowly Weyoun looked up to him. "How can you be so... alive?" he asked, seriously confused. Damar took a sip from his glass - clearly Kanar, not water. "Its a matter of training", he replied and Weyoun couldn't help but notice amusement in his voice. He poured down the water, put the glass aside and tried to get up by pulling himself up on the desk. He didn't make it far. The dizziness and headache decided he should remain on the floor for now. "Damn, seems your poison resistance was a bit overstated", Damar said. He got up, put his glass on the desk and grabbed Weyoun to help him up, but soon realized that the Vorta was far from a condition to stay on his feet without help. "Poison is... different..." Weyoun started to explain, but the headache found this wasn't neccessary.

Damar was glad Weyoun couldn't see him grin. This worked much better than expected and it was hard to hide his good mood. After he had dragged Weyoun to the bed and put him in it, he replicated some more water and placed it on the night table. "You better get some rest today", Damar said, trying to look concerned. "I wish I could", Weyoun sighed and seriously tried to get up. "I have to be on comm for the weekly reports of the border patrols in an hour..." Damar nodded. "I almost forgot myself..." he began slowly, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

He didn't wait long. Weyoun didn't manage to make two steps before the dizziness beat the sense for duty. Damar caught him before he hit the floor and put him back in the bed. "You really better stay here for now", he said, like a father talking to his sick child. "Why don't you give me your access code and I do the conference for you?" Weyoun, finally accepting his condition, nodded weakly. "It is probably better if you do the talking", he sighed. "The founder shouldn't see me like this."

Damar got up from the bed. "Then I better go and read up on the last reports", he said, grabbed a note pad from his desk and let Weyoun enter his access codes. This had been much easier than expected... Damar had almost reached the door when he heard the Vorta's voice again. "If you see the founder, or if he asks for me... Tell him... Tell him..." "I'll think of something", Damar replied over his shoulder. "You have nothing to worry about."

_Whether or not Damar is in any shape to orchestrate an attack, I am going to take this opportunity to make absolutely sure that things are in order._ Garak rode up the turbolift and soaked in the startled gazes of the people manning the stations. He merely nodded to them and grinned when he caught Captain Sisko's gaze. "_Mister_ Garak. What. Brings you up here to ops?" Sisko gave the Cardassian a wary eye and an almost amused smile. Garak strode up to him, "I have something to discuss with you, Captain." He glanced around the room at the officers who were now trying not to pay attention to him, "Privately."

"Of course," Sisko gestured to his office and took his seat inside, "now what is this about?"

"I'm afraid," Garak glanced at the floor, "that I have some disturbing news about nefarious activity in station security." He looked straight at Sisko, gauging the Starfleet man's reaction.

"Go on," Sisko leaned forward with badly hidden curiosity.

Garak began, "I have reason to believe someone on this station has sabotaged the defense systems and is currently in contact with at least one person in the Central Command."

Sisko leaned back, "might I ask how you came by this information?"

"In my line of work," Garak replied, "you hear quite a bit of talk."

"Mm." Sisko stared at Garak, "and I'm supposed to believe this based on hearsay?"

Garak shook his head, "I don't expect you to believe anything," his voice pulled back into the realm of mystery, "I can tell you this. There are many things going on right under your nose, Captain. Major Kira's sudden and tragic disappearance for one."

"I suppose you 'heard' that was an inside job as well?" Sisko crossed his arms.

"I actually haven't heard anything on that matter," Garak admitted, "but if I do, you will be the first to know about it."

"Thank you, Mr. Garak..." Sisko began, clearly ready to move on to other tasks. Garak stepped back and started to turn to leave.

"Ah, Captain?" Garak stopped, "I would urge you not to trust too many people around here or what they have to say."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sisko waved Garak out. The tailor nodded, left, and allowed a small smile to creep across his face when he was out of sight. He returned to the turbolift, avoiding the gazes of several curious officers. _This is so much fun, I wonder why I didn't do this years ago?_


	8. Empty Bottles and Open Threats

Weyoun had been right. His office looked much better with some decoration. But maybe the 'more pleasing atmosphere' of the room was also a result of Weyoun not being in it. Damar took his feet from the desk and poured himself a glass of Kanar. He switched on the screen, entered Weyoun's access codes and flipped through some classified Dominion files. But a more detailed review of them would have to wait a bit. After selecting a secure diplomacy channel, Damar entered the destination of the transmission and waited.

The screen flickered, then Garak's face showed up, crisp and clean as if he wasn't a couple of lightyears away. "Garak", Damar nodded to the screen. "I'm glad you could make it today." "And I am glad you could", Garak replied. "When I called the last time, you didn't appear to be in a very good shape." Damar grinned and looked down to the glass in his hand. "Everything is perfectly under control." He took a sip. "I wasn't so sure", Garak continued, still looking a bit cautious. "Don't you think it was quite unlucky to let the Vorta know we are in touch?" Damar smiled and shook his head. "Weyoun didn't even know his own name anymore the next day. And even _if_..." The smile turned into a big grin. "Is there something I should know?" Garak asked slowly. "Let's just say, my pet Vorta wouldn't mind too much about our plans", Damar stated and raised his glass. "Your _pet Vorta_?" Garak couldn't help but wondering if it wasn't a pet Cardassian not too long ago. "Weyoun owes me one thing or another", Damar explained with a generous gesture. "He was even kind enough to let me use his secure channel for this call. This subspace interferences on my own channel always annoy the hell outta me."

Garak was certain something was damn wrong about this, just not about the 'what'. "I really don't want to get too personal, Damar, but would you mind explaining this in a bit more detail?" he calmly asked. "I'm sure you understand it sounds a bit too good to be true that the Dominion treats a simple Glinn this well, all in a sudden." "Simple _Gul_", Damar interrupted and pointed on his chest. "I got promoted." "By Weyoun, I assume?" Garak crossed his arms and leaned back. "No, by the founder", Damar replied, seemingly unimpressed by Garak's gesture. "Our plans have changed a bit. We are no longer operating undercover." His eyes wandered off screen, to the door of the office, Garak assumed. "Well, this idiot regent of Toran doesn't need to know, but the Dominion approved the plan." Garak just stared at his screen. "That is quite a big change!" he finally said. Damar nodded and poured some more Kanar.

"There's a task force of 3 Galor class ships on the way to Terok Nor. They will arrive in less than 2 days, and claim to be deserteurs to gain exile in Federation space. Their orders are to sabotage weapons and shields, and redirect all vital system controls to their lead ship. To achieve this, they will hand Captain Sisco a pad containing false strategic information about Dominion outposts, and an encrypted virus that allows remote control of all infected systems. I'm transmitting their current position and route now." Damar pushed a key; a small blinking light indicated Garak was recieving a file transmission. "A handful Birds of Prey should have no problem dealing with that", Damar finished. Garak just stared at him for a moment. "May I ask why you are betraying your men?" he finally gasped. "I'm not betraying anyone", Damar shook his head, slightly amused. "I only make sure no-one is getting in my way."

He looked away from the screen obviously someone had just entered the office. "Weyoun, I was just thinking of you!" Damar said to the off and waved his empty bottle. "Get me some new Kanar!" He looked back to the screen. Garak tried to read his face, but couldn't really come to a conclusion. "You are aware of the obvious fact that the 'undercover' part of this mission still applies for me, are you?" he slowly asked. Damar nodded and turned away from the screen again. Now Garak could see Weyoun, and he had really brought a bottle of Kanar. Garak considered that Damar had programmed a hologram of the Vorta, but was interrupted in his thoughts about the 'why'. "The founder asked for you in the briefing earlier", Damar adressed Weyoun and Garak could see the shock in his face. It was obvious the Vorta hadn't attented the briefing, and likely this wasn't voluntarily. "I said you were busy to arrange some things for the new task force." Damar turned back to the screen and Garak. "But that isn't really important now. Just make sure Toran's ships will not reach Bajoran space."

**Cardassia Prime, Weyoun's quarters**

Some days ago, Weyoun had wondered if things could get any worse. Well, he got his answer. Yes. Much worse. The founder had not let it be after leaving Damar's quarters the other day. The founder had called both Weyoun and Damar to his private room, where he usually shapeshifted around, and told them off. Well, not really "them". Only him. And "told off" was also not quite the right term for announcing it was probably time for a new clone, and ordering Weyoun to activate his terminal implant. All in all, that was the moment when Weyoun had thought it couldn't get _any_ worse, ever. But Damar proved him wrong in the very moment of this thought.

"Why go through the trouble?" he had said to the founder, sounding a bit bored by the entire conversation. "We'd have to send a ship over to the cloning facility, get rid of the deactivated clone, and even run risk to activate another defect one." "Hmm, true", the founder had replied thoughtfully. "We still can't exclude a flaw in the machinery causing the issues with Weyoun 5." "Yeah", Damar had agreed casually. "Let's just keep this one. I'll take care of the current operations myself." The founder had nodded, sent Weyoun out and when Damar left the room a bit later, he wasn't a Glinn anymore, he was a Gul. And Weyoun was... alive. Saved by Damar. That _was_ worse than being dead.

A brief glance at his screen told Weyoun there were no tasks for him to do. No briefings, no meetings, nothing. Not today, not tomorrow. He had never felt so useless. Abandoned by his god, replaced by a Cardassian madman. And this madman went through a lot trouble to remind him of that every waking moment. Sent him for Kanar when others would see it. Told him to meet him after the meeting, just to point out Weyoun wouldn't participate. Using his own best weapon against him - the faked smile, the kind lies, the I-know-that-you-know-and-I-give-a-damn-you-don't-like-it look.

Weyoun got up from the bed, walked around like a caged animal, considered going to check the Breen channel, decided it would be disappointing anyways and sank back to his bed after a while. He glared over to his desk again. Still no messages, no orders, no nothing on the screen. The empty walls reflected how he felt perfectly. When he opened the Kanar bottle, he wondered why the founders hadn't given the Vorta the ability to cry.


	9. Gathering

Garak sat and listened with rapt attention as Bashir explained his point of view. At least, Garak _appeared_ to be listening with rapt attention. Bashir finally looked at the Cardassian's eyes and was sure there was more going on behind them than simply listening.

"Have you heard a word I said?" Bashir asked when he'd stopped talking and Garak still appeared to be listening.

Garak blinked, "Of course, and I have to agree with you…on the first part."

Bashir narrowed his eyes, "You think that the Bajorans are right?"

Garak nodded, "Well, from a certain point of view…"

Bashir shook his head, "Garak, I swear if I didn't know you better I'd think you were distracted by something."

"Oh, but you do know me better than that," Garak replied, "Lunch is the most intellectually stimulating part of my day, I'm afraid. Nothing else is really worth getting distracted by."

"Of course," Bashir smiled uncertainly, "I suppose I'd better be off, anyway. I had meant to be packing half an hour ago."

"Packing?" Garak asked, his eyes carefully guarding the question.

Bashir nodded slowly, "Yess, we're taking the Defiant to investigate rumors of a Dominion infiltration at Starbase 26."

"Right," Garak said, setting down his eating utensil, "well, don't let me keep you."

"Thank you for lunch," Bashir smiled again, this time genuinely. He picked up the padd that he had brought with him and stood up.

"Thank _you_, Doctor," Garak watched him leave.

**Deep Space Nine: Garak's tailor shop **

Garak looked up from his work to see the large form of a Klingon enter his shop. The Klingon strode in and stared straight at Garak, "I was told that my order was ready!"

Garak nodded, "Oh yes, but I seem to have left it in my quarters…"

"I didn't make any order," the Klingon interrupted him, his eye blazing with obvious confusion.

"I think you're mistaken, Martok," Garak replied calmly, a conspiratorial tone edging his voice, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll just go and get it." He set the padd he was working on in the center of the counter and stepped out of his shop.

Martok stood awkwardly alone for a few minutes before his gaze rested on the padd. _I wonder what that "tailor" is up to?_ He glanced back toward the door before picking up the padd and flipping through some of the pages. One mentioned a Cardassian attack force of three ships about to invade the station. His attention thoroughly grabbed, he quickly read through it. The Klingon reset the padd to the page it was on originally and placed it back on the counter just as Garak strode back in.

"I'm terribly sorry," Garak shook his head, "I can't seem to find it."

"That's fine," Martok grunted, "I've got everything I need." _and I can take out those ships easily as long as Starfleet doesn't get wind of it and start "discussing" this with everyone in the quadrant!_

"Good," Garak said, picking up the padd again. He didn't look at it, but felt that it was slightly warmer than it should have been if it had been left on the counter all this time. He grinned, "Have a pleasant stay on Deep Space Nine."

Martok looked Garak up and down, nodded once, and left.

Less than an hour later, Garak was interrupted from his work by a lot of rushing around right outside his door. He peered out to investigate and was nearly collided into by a Ferengi. Quark stopped short, fear in his eyes, then seemed to relax a little.

"Garak, you scared me! I thought you were one of," the Ferengi gulped, "_them_."

"Them, who?" Garak asked casually.

"The Cardassians!" Quark gasped, "they're about to invade the station…and I've got to get to the bar and dig the Kanar out of the storeroom before Starfleet comes and chases them off!"

"Ah," Garak nodded knowingly.

"If you'll excuse me," Quark dodged around Garak and pumped his short legs around the curve of the Promenade and out of sight. Garak strode purposefully off in the opposite direction. It had begun.


	10. Forces

Aboard the Tekara, Damar leaned back and let his eyes wander to the small window where tiny points of light appeared more like thin lines at this speed. Things couldn't have turned out any better. Damar hadn't really expected Garak to carry out the orders, but recent long range scans indicated that everything was ready for the takeover. The weapon systems and shield controls locked with a Cardassian code that had been dorment for almost 5 years now, and even better - the Defiant had left the station about 8 hours ago. He reached for the Kanar when the door to his ready room opened.

"Damn, haven't I told you to _ask_ if you can come in?" Damar gave Weyoun an annoyed glance, but waved him in. "I can leave and come back if you wish", Weyoun replied, failing to hide all cynism in his voice. "I just thought you would want to know that Toran's task force just encountered 5 Birds of Prey." Damar left the bottle were it was and sat up. "And?" he asked, slightly impatient. "Do you wish to know how this situation turned out?" Weyoun had found his fake smile again. "Damn, yes, of course!" Damar yelled. The Vorta nodded, obviously unimpressed. "I figured you'd want me to ask first", he said, smiling. "The task force has been destroyed." Damar nodded and kept on watching Weyoun thoughtfully. "Where are the Birds of Prey now? Are they heading back to Terok Nor?" Weyoun shook his head. "It looks like they are on the way to rendevouz with the Defiant." Now Damar reached for the bottle. "Very good. We should drink to that!" Weyoun raised an eyebrow. "Well, its never too early to celebrate", he said and Damar couldn't figure out if he meant it, or if it was another sarcastic remark.

Actually, Damar had trouble to read Weyoun's true intentions for a couple of days now. Back on Cardassia, his pet Vorta hadn't caused him any problems. But since they left on the Tekera, something had changed. Weyoun returned to his former sarcasm and though Damar wanted to believe it was just a result of the founder not being around, something told him it wasn't the true reason. But finding out about that had to wait. "Tell the fleet to take formation", he said. "We'll reach Terok Nor in 2 hours." Weyoun nodded, but didn't move. "What?" Damar growled. "I was about to ask if you'd like me to leave the room and return to the bridge", Weyoun smiled. Angrily, Damar jumped up. "Damn, yes, of course!" He was certain to see the Vorta's smile turn into a grin for a short moment before Weyoun left the room.

Odo glared at the controls as the station rocked. Shields were dropping fast, and the station's other defenses were completely non-operational. Outside, a Cardassian attack force bombarded Deep Space Nine; there was no hope of stopping them. Why? Because he had listened to Garak for a moment just long enough to let him sabotage the entire station. _I knew something was going on. Garak knew they were coming. He planned this all along. And I LET him. How could I LET him talk me into this?_. Odo thumped the controls with his fist and stormed to the turbolift. _One thing's for sure. I am going to find him and he is going to tell me what he did to the systems, and he's going to fix it! If we last long enough._ The turbolift stalled for a second while all the lights flickered, but resumed its way down to the Promenade. Odo soon spotted Garak peering out of his shop. He didn't have to stomp to move quickly to the tailor shop, but he did anyway. Garak saw him coming and straightened up, beginning to start his "friendly tailor" routine.

Well, it wasn't going to get him out of this.

"Constable! What is going..." Garak began.

"There's a fleet of Cardassian warships attacking the station and we're sitting here helpless!" Odo stabbed the air in front of Garak with his finger, "What did you do to the defenses?"

"The defenses?" Garak asked, eyes opening slightly, "didn't _we_ just strengthen them?"

"Does it _sound_ like they're strengthened?" Odo demanded, sarcasm blasting from every syllable. As if to emphasize his point, the lights flickered again.

Garak looked up and then back at Odo, shrugging, "whatever is going on with the defenses, I assure you, I have nothing to do with it. I've just been here in my shop..."

"Ohh no you haven't..." Odo stepped forward confrontationally, "you knew about the attack long before there were any indications that the Cardassians were planning anything against the station, and they've known exactly where to hit us. You convinced me to put some sort of _loopholes_ in the command codes and then gave the information to the Cardassians, didn't you?"

Garak blinked blankly, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes you do!" Odo snarled, grabbing the Cardassian by the arm, "and you're going to fix it. NOW!"

Garak shook his head, "I'm sorry, Constable, as much as I'd like to help you, I can't begin to guess what's wrong with the system OR how to fix it. Besides that, if it's as bad as you say it is up there, it's too late to save the station."

"Oh, really?" Odo yanked Garak back to the turbolift, "well humor me and try anyway."


	11. Conference

The news had hit the Defiant crew like a collective stroke. DS9 had fallen. While they were chasing warp trails and didn't suspect _anything_ at all from the Cardassians. Sisko punched the wall of his ready room with bare fists, almost making the knuckles bleed. Now it suddenly made all perfect sense. The rumours about an infiltration of a space base two weeks away from the station, involving an old friend of his, literally forcing _him_ to investigate. Then, this unbelievable coincidence that Martok was called to the tailor's shop, and found information about a Cardassian strike force on the way to DS9; leaving him and the Klingon fleet enough time to reach and destroy the ships. At last but not least, running into 3 damn Jem'Hadar ships that were easily fought off, but for some strange reason only targeted the engines and not the weapons before they were destroyed. Just one piece wouldn't want to fit in this puzzle somehow. Garak showing up in ops to warn about all this. There was no doubt he knew about the invasion, and Sisko was also quite certain he let Martok find the pad on purpose. A warning, but also making sure the Klingons would leave DS9? It didn't make sense.

"We have warp drive back on the Rotarran."

Martok stood in the open door of the ready room when Sisko looked up. "One down, six to go", he sighed. "At impulse, we won't get back to Bajoran space in 3 months." "Two of my other ships should be done with repairs in a few hours", Martok said. "We can be on the way at 19:00 hours." "Don't be a fool." Sisko went over to his desk. "They have the wormhole. The entire quadrant will be swarmed with Jem'Hadar ships soon, and you stand no chance to even get close to the station with 3 ships." "Then 7 ships won't make a difference." Martok shook his head. "Let me know when the repairs on your optimism are completed. I'll be on my way and do what I can to hold the Jem'Hadar back."

-

**Terok Nor, Ops**

Damar pretended to not notice the grin on Weyoun's face. Of course he had imagined this moment a bit more glorious than this. Appearing in ops, right at the stairs to Sisko's office, rush in, drag him out, and announce under the eyes of the entire senior staff that Terok Nor was Terok Nor again, and no longer DS9. The "entire senior staff" attending in reality was... Odo. Weyoun knew this was quite far from Damar's wishful thinking, and Damar knew that he knew. To at least make it a bit more interesting, Damar had called some more inhabitants of the station to ops, just to have a crowd to talk to. Instead he got a picture perfect parody of an earth sitcom.

Quark leaned on the wall next to the turbo lift and every pore on his body screamed "Make this quick, I have business going on!" Odo stood, with crossed arms and grumpy eyes, in front of the turbo lift and tried to stare Damar down. Jake Sisko, a rather bad replacement for his father, sat on one of the consoles, scribbling on a pad and documenting what was going on, probably in the pitiful hope to send the finished article to a news magazine later. Garak leaned on a wall, keeping the distance from the Ferengi, but generally expressing the same attitude - "Can we go now?"

Finally, Damar accepted the not-so-glorious moment. "Well, I think everyone already noticed that Terok Nor is under Cardassian contr..." "Dominion control!" Weyoun corrected him. Damar rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, resisted the urge to push the Vorta down the stairs, and continued: "...under Dominion control. I'm the new commander and you will obey my orders..." "If they are profitable, I will!" Quark interrupted. "This is a joke", Damar said, more to himself. Then he adressed the "crowd" again. "They are. Go back to your bar and raise the prices. And you, and you..." He pointed to Garak and Odo. "You come to my office." "Can I come, too?" Jake quickly asked as Damar turned around. "NO! You can't!" he growled and went in Sisko's office.

"Do I _have_ to come?" Weyoun asked. Again, Damar rolled his eyes. "No, do whatever you want. Just stay out of my way!" The Vorta nodded and slipped past Garak and Odo, who finally moved towards the commander's office, and into the turbo lift that Quark had activated. "I hope you don't mind if I join you", Weyoun smiled. "I'm so tired of Cardassian food, and I have so much latinum and no use for it!" Quark's face immediately switched from "annoyed" to "satisfied". "Now THAT sounds like we'll get along very very well, my friend", he grinned. "Say, do you still like gambling?"

In Damar's office, Garak paused, judging the other Cardassian's eyes with his own. There was a certain amount of sincerity that seemed to go slightly beyond what Garak had anticipated. Maybe it was all the Kanar that the other Cardassian undoubtedly still had running through his system. "Well, that is quite tempting." Garak replied slowly. Peripherally, he noticed Odo shooting a sideways glance at him. He ignored the changeling and focused on Damar's impatient head tilt. Waiting until the head tilt started to form into an outright glare, Garak smiled. "How could I _refuse_ such an offer?" Beside him, a grunt came from Odo, only loud enough for Garak to hear. Once again, Garak ignored him, but at the same time, an annoying heavy feeling nagged at him. He ignored the feeling, too. None of that mattered anyway. Things were going exactly the way they should.


	12. Promises and Kanar

"Donn't ged me starded on Dum... Dammar...!"

Weyoun clearly had had a Kanar more than was good for him, and he in fact also had the latinum he claimed to have in the turbo lift. Quark would certainly not stop him now. "I take it you don't really get along, huh?" he said and poured the Vorta another glass. "Ged alonnng... Pah!" Weyoun grabbed the bottle Quark wanted to put back behind the bar. "Jusst leaf that here..." The Ferengi shrugged and left the bottle were it was. "I jus wis... wish he would planabit more a-ahead, y'know?" Quark nodded, though he had no clue what Weyoun was talking about. "That must be quite frustrating." The Vorta nodded and let his head sink down on his hands, resting on the bar. "The fon... fondue... founder even sanctioned his actionsss!" he sighed. "Aww!" Quark reached for another bottle of Kanar, just in case. "That's simply not right. The founders created _you_ as their field commanders, they shouldn't promote random Cardassians over you!" Weyoun's head released one of his hands to search the bar for his glass; Quark helped him quickly to find it. Nothing was more profitable than a rich **and** frustrated customer.

"Quark!"

Odo's voice made the Ferengi jump around. He had been so focussed on keeping the Vorta drinking, he hadn't paid attention to the door. Now, the constable stood there, crossed arms, glaring at him and sending the unspoken message "I know something I shouldn't know" to Quark.

Still a little under shock, the Ferengi tried to overplay it. He smiled and turned around. "Constable! Long time no see! How can I...?" "I'm not the one needing help." Odo had reached the bar. "_You_ need all help you can get. I noticed a suspiciously high number on a cargo list earlier today, and I haven't seen '200 jars of Trekelian jelly' anywhere on the station... but for some strange reason, 200 bottles of Kanar... That makes a pricing difference of _at least_..."

"Founder?"

Weyoun, who had remained with his head on the bar, had opened one eye and slowly raised his head to visually confirm Odo's presence now. "It's still _Odo_..." Odo sighed and looked back to Quark. "Cani do annysing to help in siss situasion?" Odo still tried to simply ignore the Vorta. Quark, having used the short distraction to hide the second Kanar bottle, shrugged and smiled. "What's the difference? Trekelian jelly, Kanar..." "The taxes are the difference!" Odo interrupted. "I attented a meeting with our new commander just two hours ago, and if I like it or not, I have to enforce his rules for the time being. The tax difference between 200 jars of jelly and 200 bottles of Kanar is..." "I can talg to Dammmah...!" Weyoun raised his head. "I thought he doesn't listen to you anyways!" Quark grunted, then remembered this was a rich and frustrated customer and quickly added, in a much friendlier tone: "But I would really appreciate it if you tried to talk to him!" Weyoun nodded and somehow managed to get off the chair without falling.

"I tallk to Dammah... Sere wonnt be a broblem, I promiss!" he said, looking at Odo, not Quark. "I simbly tell him it was your idea to lower taxeses for Kanar an... and raisse them for sh... jal... jelly... to... to... support Cardassian tradission on the stasion..." "And why would you give _me_ credit for that?" Odo asked. "Yeah, shouldn't YOU try to get back his respect?" Quark added. "I donnt mader that mush... I juss want Damah to like the fon... founder!" With the aid of the bar and some chairs to clutch to, Weyoun managed it to find the exit of the bar, leaving Odo and Quark in slight confusion. The changeling slowly turned back to the Ferengi, but before he could say anything, Quark grinned and produced the Kanar bottle. "Hey, see the good side! He covers up your failure to enforce Damar's new taxes, we should drink to that!"

Odo rolled his eyes and stood up, "Quark, you know I don't drink." He shook his head at the door that Weyoun had left through, "you humanoids seem so bent on poisoning yourselves." Odo gave the Kanar bottle a meaningful glance, "Don't think for a minute that this means you're off the hook." He glared at Quark. Then he left for his office.

Quark looked down at the Kanar bottle, then at Odo's retreating back, shrugged, and took out a glass from behind the counter. "Doesn't mean I can't still drink to it."

Odo had just reached his office and sat down behind his desk when the door opened again. The contable grunted and looked up, and grunted again.

"Brunt, FCA."

The Ferengi stood in the door, probably trying to look impressive, but was overshadowed by two way more impressive looking Nausicaans standing behind him on the promenade. "Wrong door", Odo informed him. "Quark's is over there." "Let that be my concern", Brunt shook his head and came closer. "Actually, I am looking for _you_." He pointed at Odo and exposed his sharp teeth with a grin. "I wasn't aware the FCA deals with Non-Ferengi", Odo replied, unimpressed. "Or do I look Ferengi to you?" Brunt's eyes narrowed. "You _could_ if you wanted", he said. "However, the recent changes on this station do effect Ferengi business. I was informed that you are in charge when it comes to tax changes." Odo leaned back and watched him a bit puzzled. "I am chief of security", he said. "All I do is check the arrivals and departures, and make sure the taxes set by Damar are getting paid." Brunt nodded and began to walk up and down in the office. "I'm aware of that. And that you are changing taxes to your liking when the situation requires it." "You are mis-informed", Odo grunted and tried to focus on his screen, to look busy and hopefully make the Ferengi just go away.

It didn't work. "I'm not. The Vorta told me you can change taxes, and Damar approves your changes. You changed the rates for Kanar and Trekelian jelly not even 20 minutes ago. Don't tell me you already forgot that!" Odo looked up. "I did not. Weyoun did, and claimed it was me." Brunt laughed. "Am I supposed to believe that?" He stopped at the desk and leaned over to Odo. "Quark may be..." he looked around as if he cared if anyone was listening. "...a bit stupid. But you and I, we are not. So stop fooling around, and let's talk business." "I'm not talking or doing any business", Odo sighed. "If you would excuse me now? I have work to do."

Brunt did not excuse him. Instead, he waved the Nausicaans in the office, and the door closed behind them. He looked around the room suspiciously, then pulled a rolled up document out of his jacket and passed it to Odo. "If you would consider lowering the taxes for all Ferengi cargo arriving and leaving the station, and Bajor..." Again, his eyes scanned the walls and ceiling. "...I would be eternally grateful, and the Grand Nagus would show his appreciation as well." He sounded like an actor playing the role of his life, or in other words - insincere beyond Ferengi norm. Now Odo was curious after all. He rolled up the document and quickly read over it. And again, slower. Then he looked up to Brunt, who still stood at the desk with a lingering grin. "Why are you doing this?" Odo quietly asked. "Because the Ferengi Alliance has not the slightest interest into losing valuable business opportunities in the Gamma Quadrant because of your little war", he whispered. "I'll be in my quarters, expecting your decison. But hurry, I don't intend to stay any longer than neccessary."

He turned around and headed for the door, the grunting Nausicaans followed him and Odo remained alone in his office with more work than he had ever expected.


	13. Under the Table

Garak strode down the lower level of the Promenade, heading for his shop. Reaching the door, he began to unlock it. He didn't see Odo heading toward him until the changeling was directly behind him.

"I would think you'd be too busy running the station to keep up with your tailoring business," Odo remarked sardonically.

Garak turned and smiled, "I'm merely _helping_ run the station. Besides, I have loyal customers waiting for the clothing they ordered. But I promise, as soon as I get these last articles done, I will be out of your way and back up in Ops."

Odo grunted. He found himself doing a lot of that lately, "Garak, your 'promises' mean nothing. And I really don't care if you ran the entire Obsidian Order from your tailor shop."

Garak blinked, "Constable, is something bothering you?"

"Yes," Odo grumbled, "you."

"Don't be so disappointed," Garak shook his head, "it really doesn't become you. You of all people should have seen this coming."

"I did," Odo glared, "but I hoped that I was wrong."

"Be careful what you wish for," Garak gave a slight nod and slipped into his shop.

"Oh no," Odo followed him, sliding through the door as it closed, "You're not getting away that easily." He gave the Cardassian a scrutinizing look, "You betrayed Deep Space Nine, yes, but this isn't the end of it. You're planning something, aren't you?"

"Planning?" Garak's eyes opened wider, "No, not planning, my dear Constable." He reached under his desk and ripped out a monitoring device. "That's better, now we can talk."

"I really don't have time for your games, Garak," Odo frowned.

"You were the one who followed me in here," Garak pointed out, "so have a seat."

Odo stood for five seconds and then sat down in one of the cushy couches for waiting customers. Garak paced in front of him, "I'm not planning, because it's already planned. Everything is already in place. Everything, that is, except you."

"Me?" Odo's head tilted.

"Yes," Garak looked directly at the changeling. Odo stared straight back into Garak's eyes, sensing a depth that was usually covered. It wasn't an emotional depth, no, that was still hidden deep. It was a dark, cunning, sharp-edged depth. Like two black holes ringed with glowing blue gases. Garak's entire expression would have instantly intimidated most men, shooting through them like lasers. But Odo just measured and observed it.

Perhaps realizing that he'd exposed part of his inner self, Garak turned his face away for a moment, staring at the wall of his shop. He took a breath and continued, "You see, this station is a target that many powerful people in the Cardassian government want to regain control of," His eyes ran over the length of his shop, a not-so-slight disdain twitching at the edges of his mouth, "though I can't begin to understand why they'd want to move back in."

Odo sent him a withering look, "I KNOW everyone wants to control the station. What I don't know is what is going on and what I have to do with it."

"You have the admiration and loyalty of most of the long-term residents of this station," Garak replied calmly, "as well as Starfleet and the Bajoran government."

"I suppose you're going to ORDER me to convince them to submit to Cardassian control," Odo drizzled in sarcasm.

Garak shook his head, "Why do you have to be so disagreeable? We're not enemies here. We could be allies. After all, we want the same thing."

"Are you ever going to explain yourself or am I just here to keep you company while you sew?" Odo growled.

"All in good time, Constable," Garak smiled in his infuriating way, "right now, I need you to do something for me." He took a padd from behind one of the chairs and handed it to Odo, "the details are right here."

Odo read the padd, "What is this? Communications encryption codes? What, do you want me to call the Order and surrender formally?"

"THAT," Garak said sharply, "is the way to activate a little surprise I placed on the Defiant. And no, it doesn't explode. It's a communication device. Dr. Bashir brought it onboard for me."

"Was he aware of it?" Odo asked suspiciously.

"No," Garak admitted, "but it won't take him long to find it if he hasn't already. The communication device should allow you to send a voice-only message to the Defiant through Damar's current lockout. You are going to call them back while I reset the station's defenses and change all of Damar's access codes. I think under the circumstances, the message would sound more convincing coming from you."

"You're right," Odo watched Garak's face, "but how do I know you're not double-crossing us again?"

"You don't," Garak replied quickly, "but consider this. The Federation isn't going to give the station up so easily. Why would I want to remain second in command of a station that it's likely will very soon be the center of an interstellar war involving all of the major powers in the quadrant?"

"True, that doesn't sound like your style," Odo relented slightly, "Okay, we'll do things your way, but you consider THIS. If I find out you were directly responsible for the destruction of the Defiant OR that you double crossed me again, I will deal with you accordingly...Order or no Order."

"I believe you," Garak said with a tight smile.

"Hmph," Odo grunted. He took the padd and left. Now might be a good time to take Brunt up on his offer of assistance. If Garak was serious about re-sabotaging the station defenses, it could be exactly the right time to call in reinforcements.


	14. Unlikely Alliance

Garak certainly had better things to do than sitting in Damar's office and listen to his not-so-sober babble. He had clothings to finish, he had to check back with Odo, and finally, he had a reservation for a table in Quark's, for the brand new Cardassian buffet. However, he didn't do any of these more appealing things. He sat in Damar's office and listened to the not-so-sober babble of the acting commander. And compared to him, the Vorta was pleasant company - at least he wasn't drunk.

"And onse se Rommolans surennndered... We can focusss the attags on earth..." Damar's plans had no merit at all. They didn't even make sense. Though most circled around the scenario of Romulus having surrended to Cardassia, really nothing had indicated why the Romulans would surrender in the first place. "Wouldn't it be much easier if Romulus didn't surrender, but join the Dominion?" Weyoun tried to bring any form of structure into Damar's babble. "Why wouldi want more of these... these... pointy ears as alliesss? Sere are alreaddy enouss of them in the Dom... Dum... Duminiun..." "But it would save resources, and we are still in no position to..." An empty Kanar bottle flew in Weyoun's direction, but missed him, hit the wall instead and broke. The Vorta quickly seeked shelter behind a chair, next to Garak. "Can't you talk to him?" he whispered. Garak just shrugged. "I tried. But as you see, I couldn't convince him of anything either." Another bottle went flying towards Weyoun, this time missing him only slighty.

"Stop whisbering!" Damar took his feet from the desk, probably to get up, but then decided against it. "I apologize, commander", Weyoun said, sarcasm shrouding the small effort to sound sincere. "I always forget not everyone has my perfect sense of hearing." "OUT!" Damar had managed it to stand up, shaky, but he was standing. And he had a full bottle in his hand this time. Seeing his target practise had gotten slightly better from bottle to bottle, this was red alert for Weyoun. "OUT I SAID!" Damar yelled, and the Vorta found it a very good time to obey. He slipped to the door and out to ops, and leaned on the wall, taking a deep breath. This wasn't good. Not at all. The Fouder back on Cardassia probably had no idea what was going on here. He had to do something before things would get completely out of control. Before Damar would really order an attack.

The door opened again, and Garak left the office. Weyoun quickly checked. The tailor wasn't bleeding, and his clothes were still dry. That meant Damar had either missed with the bottle, or not thrown it at him. "Gul Garak!" he addressed him, as Garak went down the stairs, towards the turbo lift. The Cardassian stopped, an amused smile playing on his face, but he didn't turn around. Within seconds, Weyoun was with him. "Can we talk?" Now Garak looked down to him. "I have a reservation for the buffet at Quark's. If one good thing came out of this takeover, it was certainly the revival of Cardassian cuisine. And since Dr. Bashir isn't on the station..." he shrugged. "I think you will do as a lunch partner." _Someone seriously calling me Gul just has to be entertaining_, he added in his thoughts.

It was the best table. Not for the majority of the station's inhabitans, but certainly for Garak. The table was sheltered from curious eyes and ears from three sides, and still gave him a perfect view on the rest of the bar. "You see", he smiled and took a seat. "This _is_ as good as 'in private'. We can enjoy the excellent cuisine and discuss... the more delicate matters." Weyoun's face showed no reaction at all. For a moment, Garak even thought the Vorta felt insulted. "You can enjoy the cuisine", he replied sharply. "I certainly don't enjoy anything at the moment."

"Except for Kanar", Quark, who had shown up to take the orders, grinned. Weyoun just gave him a cold glance and took a seat. "Anything wrong?" the Ferengi asked. "_Every_thing", Weyoun corrected him. "It appears we have a lot to talk about", Garak said thoughtfully. He looked up to Quark, now smiling. "Bring me the entire menu. I have a good feeling this lunch will not end with a call to the infirmary before the dessert."

"I need to get a message out to Cardassia", Weyoun said, watching Garak seriously. "Sure, why not?" the Cardassian nodded. "You don't understand. Damar locked me out of all communications." The Vorta looked concerned. "And I'm afraid he is about to do something really really stupid." "Like what?" Garak tried to read behind the unstate blue eyes of his lunch partner, but couldn't pinpoint the nature of his real concern. "He will claim that Bajor joined the Dominion, and when he does, the Founder will order the Jem'Hadar to come through the wormhole. He listens to Damar. And you know as well as I do what it means." Garak nodded. "It means that the Dominion unknowingly breaks the non aggression pact with Bajor." Weyoun sighed. "Exactly. It means that the Romulans will not consider a treaty anymore, and in the long run, the alpha quadrant will not find order in the Dominion, but fall into complete chaos." "I admit you surprise me", Garak said. "I would have thought you'd be pleased to finally get the Jem'Hadar troops here. They will outnumber any fleet the Federation, Klingons or Romulans could get together at the moment, and likely end the war." "But at what price?" Weyoun stared at the table. "Millions will die. Millions on both sides. The Dominion will stand there as a liar, breaking contracts, losing all credibility. No side will find peace and order in this way to end the war. Instead, it will be the dawn on an age of civil wars, rebellions and chaos." Now Garak was really surprised. "You didn't really strike me as someone who would care", he slowly said, watching Weyoun's reaction carefully. But there wasn't much to see. The Vorta's face remained concerned, his eyes kept trying to burn holes in the table. "I am not used to this", he finally said. "I am used to order. It has always been like that. The Dominion _is_ order. The worlds that joined us are in peace. The Founders care for them and protect them from chaos." Now he looked up, sadness in his eyes. "I think... I was simply not created to accept chaos so easily." He hestitated, then added in a more confident tone: "Let me contact the Founder. We must stop Damar."


	15. Turn Tables

Odo couldn't help but feel watched by the Nausicaans pushing each other against the wall, hitting their heads, and obviously having fun doing so. They paid no attention to him or the Ferengi they were hired to guard. Brunt was sitting - laying, hanging, or in more polite words, relaxing - on a sofa, his feet on the glass table. Odo was standing on the opposite side of said table, trying to not look over to the Nausicaans.

"Take a seat!" The Ferengi grinned and made a wavy gesture towards a chair next to him. Odo sighed quietly; he hadn't planned on staying longer than neccessary, but he sat down. Brunt finally took the feet off the table and brought himself in a sitting position. "I'm glad you decided to take my offer", he smiled, exposing the sharp teeth. "I assume that is why you are here, right?" Odo nodded, giving the Nausicaans another glare. "Do they **have** to act like that?" he asked. "Hm?" Brunt raised his eyebrows. "Who?" "The Nausicaans!" Odo nodded in their directions. "Oh, _them_! I always forget they are around." Brunt grabbed a book from the sofa and threw it at his bodyguards. Both immediately stopped to push each other around, came to the table, and sat down with their master and his guest. Secretly, Odo wished they had stayed where they were now.

"Yes, I am indeed here to discuss your offer", he said, focussing his eyes on the Ferengi. "Very good!" Brunt leaned back, looking satisfied. "We need to talk about the details though", Odo added. "Of course." Brunt reached behind the sofa and pulled out a Ferengi pad. He leaned back, closer to the constable, to show him the data. "I expected you to agree", he said, flipping through the pages. "I was so free to arrange a few things, so we aren't losing time." Odo took the pad and read over some details, then looked back up to Brunt. "You must be kidding", he pressed out. "Why? 56 ships, that should be more than enough to get the Cardassian fleet to retreat!" the Ferengi replied a bit puzzled. "That _is_ more than enough", Odo began, searching for less offending words than he had already found. "But that's 56 _pirate_ ships!" Brunt shrugged. "What did you expect? The Imperial Guard of Andoria? Of course pirate ships! The Ferengi Alliance doesn't _have_ a battle fleet!" He paused, and gave Odo a glance between arrogance and pride. "Other than the rest of the quadrant, _we_ do not solve our conflicts the violent way. _We_ are diplomats."

A part of Odo wanted to laugh out loud. The other part felt too observed by the two Nausicaans to show any visible reaction. "Alright", he finally managed to say. "Its not like I'd have much of a choice..." Brunt grinned. "I was hoping you'd realize that by yourself. I'm so tired of explaining the obvious." Odo sighed. "I have a way to contact the Defiant", he directed the conversation back to its original purpose. "General Martok is on the way here with 3 Birds of Prey, and the Defiant is catching up with them." Brunt nodded and looked over to the Nausicaans. "We can work with that", one of them grunted. Now it was Odo's turn to look puzzled. "My apologies, I forgot to introduce you to Commander Thraghdan and his first officer, Undghagar." "I thought they are your bodyguards?" Odo slowly said. Brunt grinned. "And that is what everyone else on the station thinks. You underestimate the Ferengi Alliance in so many points. We may not have an intelligence service the way you imagine one, but we aren't stupid."

At Quark's, Garak sat back and absorbed this information. He watched the mournful Vorta across from him. _What a fascinating new development. I suppose it fits right in with the rest of this madness._ He turned his head and calmly glanced to the rest of Quark's, his eyes sweeping it quickly, yet almost casually. Aware of Weyoun's unblinking stare, Garak took a bite of the appetizer and chewed thoughtfully. Finally, Garak nodded, "Yes, I believe that would be the best idea. And the sooner, the better." The tailor pretended to not be affected by the expression of relief from his lunch partner. He simply smiled and took another bite. But the Vorta was already standing up.

"I'll just need your access code," Weyoun held out his hand.

"You'll need my _communications_ access code," Garak corrected, "you won't need the others." He leaned forward and whispered the code into the Vorta's tall ear. Weyoun nodded and was gone so quickly it was as if he'd vanished into the air.

Once again alone before a meal was over, Garak sighed at the dish of bread he'd been nibbling on. He took one last piece and made his way to the door, dodging the army of waiters heading his direction with trays full of food. He nearly ran into Quark, who had placed himself in front of the Cardassian in an effort to stop him.

"Wait!" Quark cried, "you haven't even eaten yet!"

"As it turns out, I'm not actually all that hungry," Garak told the diminutive barkeep.

Quark gestured toward the now-confused waiters with arms shaking from the weight of the entire menu, "Are you planning to pay for all of this?"

"Quark," Garak gave him a stare, "I could have your entire bar transported into the next transport barge, IF I was given a reason to."

Quark seemed to shrink back a little, "Uh...but...what am I supposed to do with all of it?" He looked nervously at the piles of food.

"Feed it to people," Garak shrugged and left.

Wide-eyed, Quark watched him go, then turned to the waiters, "You heard the man. Quit standing around and start serving my customers before I take this time out of your paycheck!"

For a Klingon warrior who had seen more battles than most others could ever dream of, Martok was surprisingly stunned. Since 5 minutes, he walked around the ready room like a caged animal, occoasionally looking to Captain Sisko and Dr. Bashir, then letting his one-eyed glance stray again.

"This is a disgrace!" he yelled, again, stopped at his desk and hit it hard with both fists. "You are seriously telling me that your _Cardassian tailor_ - who is now also the second in command on the station, under the _Cardassian_ commander, the damn enemy!" He paused and shook his head. "Well, yes..." Dr. Bashir calmly said. "But it isn't the first time he turns the tide to our favour. If it wasn't for Garak, the Romulans..." Sisko gave him a serious glance from the side and Bashir broke up. "Arrr!" Martok shook his head. "No need to fool me, I know exactly why the Romulans joined the war. That isn't the point. That's different." He hit the innocent desk again. "But what you are proposing this time is insane!" "It. Is. Not! More insane than your plan to attack the entire Jem'Hadar fleet with only 3 Birds of Prey!" Sisko reminded the Klingon of his own sanity. "Is that so?" Martok slowly let his eye wander over from Bashir to Sisko. "After all, it may only be 3 ships. But they are Klingon ships. Not a patchwork piece of space garbage under the command of some barbarians without _any_ honour."  
Sisko leaned to the wall behind him and looked up to the ceiling. "I dislike it. As much as you do", he said, not looking at Martok. "But we have a realistic chance to take back the station with the support of the Ferengi Alliance."

This time, Martok kicked the desk hard instead of punching it. "Ferengi Alliance!" he mocked. "You make it sound like they are not a bunch of bucaneer crossbreeds!" "Whatever they are", Sisko said harshly. "They have 56 ships, combat experienced crews and weapons..." "...of which most are illegal in the Federation!" Martok finished his sentence. "That's a good point!" Bashir tried to negotiate. "The Dominion will not expect that. They are unprepared. The Cardassian ships have no idea what will hit them!" Martok turned his head to the doctor. "Do _we_ know?" His eye narrowed. "I see your point", Sisko nodded. "It may be a war", the Klingon slowly said. "But there is no honour in breaking our own rules. We have no damn idea what these Nausicaans have on their ships. Half of the specifications we got with the transmission make no sense. No-one knows if they have weapons we wouldn't use under the most extreme circumstances. Do we really want to take our chance to liberate Deep Space Nine, if the price may be biological warwafe on a level we can't even imagine? By Kahless, this may be our only real chance to take back the station, but its way too Ferengi for my taste. Its gambling, and we don't know what the other players bet."

Sisko wanted to answer, but a small beep from Bashir's pocket held him back. The doctor pulled out the communication device Garak had carefully hidden in a first aid kit earlier, and gave it a brief glance. "They are here", he said. "Commander Thraghdan is transmitting coordinates for the rendezvouz." "When?" Sisko asked. "Two hours", Bashir replied. The captain nodded and looked over to Martok. "We'll meet you on the Defiant in two hours then", he said. The Klingon growled, but nodded. "In two hours then."


	16. Bloodwine and Strategy

"What is the Ferengi doing here?"

Martok was all but happy to see Brunt, who had just stepped through the door into the mess hall, along with 2 Nausicaans and another Ferengi. "The pleasure is all mine", he grinned. "Gentlemen, please!" Sisko placed himself between them, though they were a couple of meters apart. One of the Nausicaans eyed the replicator next to him, hit it with the flat hand and grunted something. A tablet with glasses materialized, and the Nausicaan almost spilled the drinks when he took it out of the replicator.  
Sisko traded an irritated glance with Dax, but waited. The Nausicaan crossed the mess hall, towards Martok who sat on a table by the wall. When he reached the Klingon, he grabbed a glass and put it on the table. "Blood Wine!" the Nausicaan growled, turned around and went over to Sisko, passing him a glass too and nearly spilling the drink on the captain's uniform.

"I'm not drinking with pirates!" Martok slowly got up, took the glass and was about to pour its content on the floor, but Jadzia Dax was quickly with him and held him back. "I think its a nice gesture", she hastly said. "We should try to forget our usual differences for the moment and focus our anger towards the Dominion." Meanwhile, the Nausicaan had returned to his company near the door and handed the other one and the Ferengi, obviously the commander of their fleet, glasses. He just dropped the tablet when he realized he couldn't hold his own glass, the tablet and take the second glass off it at once.  
Slowly, Brunt looked up to the much taller Nausicaan, standing directly in front of him. "I'm not thirsty", he said. The Nausicaan was unimpressed and just stared down to the second glass. "Really, just keep it to yourself!" The Ferengi wanted to make a step back, but just ran into the second Nausicaan behind him. "We are drinking together!" he grunted. "Now!" For a moment, nothing happened and it seemed they were all frozen in time. Then, Brunt slowly took the glass and managed to slip away from his business associates. He escaped to a table besides the door, the Nausicaan commander seemed satisfied and turned back to Sisko and Martok.

He raised his glass, but despite everyone's expectations, he stated no toast and just poured down the blood wine. The second Nausicaan and the Ferengi captain followed his example, and to show his good will, Sisko did the same. Martok sighed, shrugged, then raised his glass and drank. The Nausicaan's eyes wandered back to Brunt. "Its ok, I drink!" the Ferengi quickly said and took a sip, shuddered, but when the other Nausicaan made a step in his direction, he hurried to drink the rest without gagging.

"Now, that this is settled..." Sisko began. "We fly in 5 groups!" the Ferengi captain interupted and placed himself near the stellar chart. "Commander Thragdan takes the first group, the smaller and faster Nausicaan ships. They will try to board the Cardassian ships and sabotage what they can. This group enters Bajoran space here..." He pointed somewhere on the map. "The Klingon Birds of Prey and the heavily armored Nausicaan ships go into direct combat with the Cardassian lead ships, they attack from here..." Again, his finger jumped over the map. "...with General Martok leading this wing." Without waiting for a reply or reaction, he continued. "The Defiant leads the third attack wing, primary goal - take out station defenses in case there are any left after the sabotage; otherwise they join Martok's goal. Coming in from here..." He waved around the position of Deep Space Nine on the stellar map. "The Ferengi ships are all smaller and can't go head to head with any of the Cardassians, but we are much quicker and have better navigation response than any of them. We split up in swarms in loose formation and take out shield generators, weapon systems, communication and navigation, in this order. Leave the coordination of this attack to me." He crossed his arms, looking satisfied and enjoying the stunned faces of the others.

It took a while before anyone found words. Surprisingly, it was Martok. "I didn't expect that from a Ferengi", he said. "My brother", Brunt smiled. "Intelligence runs in the family." Now it was Dax' turn to be surprised. "Let me get that right... You are a commissoner of the Ferengi Commerce Authority..." Brunt nodded, still smiling. "...and if I read the tactical data right, this is your brother, Captain Grala, wanted for piracy in 23 systems?" Again, Brunt nodded. Jadzia raised an eyebrow. "Now that's certainly one hell of a family business."

"Does everyone agree about the strategy?" Captain Grala asked and looked around. Silent nodding was the only answer. "Perfect!" The Ferengi grinned. "Its still three days, and I'd really like some more blood wine now." He looked over to Martok. "Any chance you have some to trade?"

Sisko stood in the Ready Room aboard the Defiant. Amused, he watched his screen. "I must admit I'm more than surprised." Martok grinned. "So am I, but I must revise my opinion about the Nausicaans. They sure know a good blood wine!" "That was obvious, but I didn't expect you to get along with Thraghdan beyond that." "Are you kidding?" A huge sword-like weapon appeared on the screen and covered Martok's face. "Look at this beauty!" Sisko raised an eyebrow. "Impressive..." "Yes, very, and it only cost 2 barrels of blood wine!" Now the Captain was stunned. "You... traded... with the Nausicaans?" he managed to say. Martok nodded and lowered the weapon. "Don't tell the Ferengi." He disappeared from the screen, probably to put his weapon aside. "However, I took a look at the Nausicaan flag ship, too. There's nothing the Romulans wouldn't use in their weapon array, and seeing we can't be really picky at the moment, that's good enough for me." Sisko nodded. "What about the Ferengi ships?" The Klingon shrugged. "That's your job. I dealt with the Nausicaans. You deal with the Ferengi. After all, you have one on the Defiant." He grinned. "And I bet you can convince him that he owes you something for letting him stay aboard, instead of sending him back to his brother's ship."


	17. Leadership and Kanar

"You're sure you want no Kanar?" Quark looked down to Weyoun's head, resting on the bar, staring holes into the air. "No, thank you. I stick with water", the Vorta sighed. "I can't even taste Kanar anyways." He sighed again and added thoughtfully: "...imperfect as I am..." Quickly the Ferengi looked around and when he was certain no-one was watching, he leaned down to Weyoun. "You don't wanna tell me what happened?" Weyoun's eyes didn't move, his glance was glued to the nowhere behind some boards. "There's nothing to tell", he said. "But you could bring me another water."

Now Quark was really worried about his customer of the year. The Vorta had spent a damn lot time and latinum in the bar, and that made Quark slightly more empathic than usual. "Let me guess. Damar finally found out you drank his Kanar when the bar was closed." Slowly, Weyoun shook his head, still staring through the wall behind Quark. "Its about Garak", the Ferengi guessed. "You are angry that Damar did the same as the Founder, and replaced you with a Cardassian." He opened a bottle with water, shrugged, and filled Weyoun's glass. "I have no problem with Garak", the Vorta said. "He's a nice person. Not many Cardassians are nice persons." Now, Quark stepped between the wall and the Vorta, so he couldn't be ignored anymore. "Come on, something _is_ wrong. I just try to help you." Now, Weyoun looked up. "You can't", he said, sounding sad and resignated. "You can't help me. You can't help Damar. I could." He reached for his glass. "I should. But I won't. Not this time." He drank out, got up and turned around to leave the bar.

Quark just watched him walk out, confused yet curious what that was all about.

Damar was out of it. He flopped in the desk chair, legs propped up on the desk, empty Kanar bottles lying everywhere. _Running this place isn't so hard_ he thought, lazily glancing at the readouts updating periodically on his desk monitor. He glanced around and laid eyes on what he sought. With a sneerish grin, he leaned and stretched his arm backward to reach the twisted bottle. His aim wasn't true, however, and he knocked it over, instead. Trying to catch it, Damar accidentally upended his chair and was sent sprawling onto the floor. At that moment, a klaxon started echoing through the station. Damar bolted upright and abruptly found the edge of the desk with his knee. Groaning, he angrily twisted the screen toward him. On it were words flashing in Federation Standard. They said simply, "Proximity Alert".

Garak stepped onto Ops as a totally disheveled-looking Damar stormed out of his office. "WHAT is the meaning of this?" Damar demanded, "There's an entire fleet out there...lead by a Starfleet ship...and they're GETTING THROUGH OUR DEFENSES!" He glared at the other Cardassian with suspicion, "YOU did this!"

Garak's eyes opened wider, "I finally am in a position of power again after many years of exile. Why would I want to hand the station back to Starfleet?"

"I..." Damar huffed, looking impatiently around as if searching for an answer. "I don't know," he admitted, "but if I find out that you were responsible for this, well then you can forget about your position of power!" The station rocked and even more alarms went off. Damar glared at the people standing in Ops at the consoles, "What are you waiting for? Doesn't this thing have defenses? Don't we have a fleet out there?"

A nervous-looking man shook his head, "The attacking fleet is too large, they're disabling the Cardassian ships!" Another voice called out, "We have unauthorized transporter activity...we're being boarded!" The voice sounded more relieved than anything.

"How did they get past the shields?" Damar yelled.

The voice replied, "It looks like...all of the passcodes have been changed!"

"GARAK!" Damar whirled, but the other Cardassian was no longer in Ops. "Traitor!" Damar stomped to the tactical display. He took one look at the monitor screen showing the immense attacking fleet and let out a frustrated sigh. There was only one thing left to do, and it must be done before the enemy reached Ops. Without so much as a glance backward, Damar stepped onto the transporter pad and dematerialized. Not a minute later, the turbolift arrived, spilling Sisko, Dax, O'Brien, and several other armed Starfleet officers into the room. Dax headed straight to the tactical display as O'Brien alerted the fleet that Terok Nor was once again Deep Space Nine.

"The Cardassians are retreating," Dax reported with relief.

"What's left of them," O'Brien remarked.

Sisko glanced around Ops and nodded in satisfaction, "Good. Let's...hope it. Stays that way. From. Now on. Chief, get. Started with station repairs." He stepped into his office, "And get SOME one to clean up the mess in MY office."


	18. Request

The retreating Cardassian ships appeared smaller and smaller outside the window. Weyoun couldn't really see anything but some dots since minutes, but he still stood there and stared outside.

"I admit I'm surprised to see you", he heard Garak say. The Vorta didn't turn around. "Is it really that surprising, after all?" he replied. Garak joined him on the window. "In a way, it is", he said. "But its not really personal, more... genetic. I didn't know you were able to defect." Now Weyoun turned his face to him. "I am not defecting." "Well, its close enough." Garak's eyes still followed the disappearing dots out in space. "You are still here, and your people are out there on the way to Cardassia." "_My_ people are on the other side of the wormhole", Weyoun corrected him sharply. "Cardassia may have joined the Dominion, but they are still more _your_ people than mine. And you are still here yourself. Are we both defecting now, or are we just doing what's best for us?" Now Garak smiled. "If you put it this way, I assume we are way beyond defecting, since we both betrayed Damar." "Did we? Or did Damar betray us?" Weyoun watched Garak thoughtfully. "Don't get philosophical with me, at least not now", the Cardassian smiled back. "We have more immediate matters to attend to. I think some people are expecting to see me in ops." Weyoun shrugged. "Be on your way. No-one is expecting to see me anywhere. Oh, sweet benefits of being an outcast."

"I really hate to disturb, but we need to talk." Brunt stood in the door to Sisko's office; watching the Captain trying to make his way through empty bottles to his desk. "Can't. That wait just a few hours?" Sisko kicked some bottles aside. "No, it can't. The sooner we talk this out, the better." Brunt stepped in and closed the door. "Alright." Sisko sighed and turned around. "What! Is it that can't wait?"

"The Ferengi Alliance has made some enemies today. Its the first time in centuries we took sides in an interspecies conflict. Our future is in jeopardy now; for doing the Federation a favour. The Federation that always looked down on us." The Ferengi crossed his arms and leaned on the door. Sisko slowly nodded. "And we are. VERY grateful." "Not good enough!" Brunt shook his head. "We don't deal in favours. Especially not in a situation like this. What you have seen out there was the biggest fleet we could possibly get together. If the Dominion sends only 5 Jem'Hadar warships, Ferenginar will fall. And none of you Federation people would stand in their way. Not you, not the Klingons, not the Romulans." "IF. The Dominion. Sends warships, they have to get past this station before they even get close to Ferenginar", Sisko said. Again, Brunt shook his head. "And that they can take the station easier than you expected isn't quite the kind of insurance I would pay for. In fact..." Sisko didn't wait for him to finish his sentence. "Listen, the Federation can and will not supply you with weapons. Even if we wanted, we can't. If that's the whole purpose of this conversation, you..." "No, you listen to me!" Brunt interupted. "I'm not asking you for weapons. If we would want to buy weapons, be sure we wouldn't come to you." "Then! WHAT are you asking for?" The Captain slowly ran out of patience.

"Nothing less than you offered Bajor."

Sisko just stared at the Ferengi. "You are seriously asking to join the Federation?" he finally managed to say.

Brunt nodded. "That's the point. We are defenseless if the Dominion returns. We need to know you are bound to defend our worlds, by a contract, not by 'being very grateful'. No weapons you could sell us would really change the facts. We are no warriors. We are no soldiers..." "The Federation has certain requirements for members", Sisko broke him up. "I can't see the council to simply overlook all the facts. You openly support piracy. You basically enslave your women. You trade with a long list of items and substances that aren't legal in the Federation, not to speak of your doubtful business methods. And..." "...we saved your ass. We prevented the Dominion from getting their Jem'Hadar fleet here. We saved the entire damn quadrant! And now, we are only asking for protection of our world! No-one expects you people to throw a party about this, or that you treat us as your favourite members instantly. Just sign a damn contract that you'll defend Ferenginar in case of an invasion." "We! Do NOT have the resources to guarantee the protection of your worlds! We need all we have left on our current fronts!"

"There, you said it!" Brunt's eyes narrowed. "You _have_ something left. _We_ have nothing. We didn't have much to begin with. The ships outside are damaged and in no condition to fight any time soon. Yes, we can repair them. All of them. But it will take time. Some don't have warp drive right now. It will take them weeks to get back to Ferenginar for the repairs. And even if we get them all ready for battle - in case of an invasion we won't have the element of surprise. Ferenginar _will_ fall if the Dominion comes. And it is up to _you_ to make sure that won't happen. Now, sign the damn contract. We gave all we have for you, now its time you return the favour."

"I can't make such decisions alone!" Sisko tried to protest. He knew deep inside that the Ferengi was right. He didn't ask for too much. Brunt grabbed in his pocket and pulled out a document. "You'll have to", he said. "You can justify it to your superiors later." Slowly, the Captain nodded.


	19. Oath

"You did _what_?" Martok stared at Sisko as if the human had totally lost his mind. Probably that was really the case.

"I signed it." Sisko kept watching outside the window to the docking ring. Some Ferengi and Nausicaan ships had finished their repairs and went into orbit, being replaced by other ships.

"You know that you had no authority to do that", the klingon pointed out the obvious. Sisko nodded. "And neither have you. But you need to sign it, too." "You gotta draw my signature with my dead hand." Now Sisko turned around. "Then go talk to the chancellor. The Romulans won't sign a thing, and with all due respect, the Klingon Empire is easier to handle in this very case." "So you think the chancellor will agree to sign a blackmail contract?" Martok crossed his arms and watched the human, waiting. Sisko sighed. "Its not blackmailing..." "It is!" the klingon interrupted. "They know damn well that it is a matter of honor to repay the debt. And just walking into your office and demanding you to sign the damn contract is blackmail. See, if the Ferengi wanted protection, why didn't they simply ask for an agreement _before_ they sent us all their ships? I doubt we'd have rejected it. It could have been really easy, for both sides. But now, I expect them to talk it out; like they should have done it in the first place."

"I know, that would have been my preference, too. But as you said, you're bound by honor anyways. Sign the contract. If the Ferengi need a written.." "THAT is the problem. Its an insult to only assume the Klingon Empire wouldn't repay them! You know what I will do?" Martok talked himself into a rage, and even though Sisko tried, he couldn't finish a single word without being interrupted. "I'll go to that Ferengi liasion officer or whatever he calls himself. Contract, forget contract. You get a blood oath. And you'll take it _with_ me!"

Sisko calmly watched the Klingon stew furiously around his words until he finally stopped, panting slightly, and stared at the human. With a small nod, Sisko replied, "Very well, but who. Did you have in mind for the witness?"

The station commander's calm reply only irritated Martok, but he restrained himself from more storming and spoke through his teeth, "That...is up to you." The Klingon glared at Sisko in disgust, shook his head, and spat, "Just arrange the meeting."

_Me, a Ferengi, and an angry Klingon in the same room with a dagger. I'm not sure this is a good idea..._ Sisko raised an eyebrow, "I can choose anyone? Including Constable Odo?"

Martok rolled his eye, "The changeling HAS no blood!"

"I know," Sisko replied, "but I would feel a. Lot. Better having him there."

The General fixed a fiery gaze on Sisko, "No changeling."

"Then there's no deal," Sisko turned away.

Martok sighed and took a deep breath. "I always thought you'd understand klingon traditions a bit better than others. Have more respect for our ways", he said, looking over to Sisko. "After all, you even asked for Worf to be stationed here when we joined the war." Sisko nodded. "I do respect your ways. But that. Doesn't make me feel too comfortable with you forcing them on others. Where is your respect for Ferengi traditions?"

Martok's attempt to calm himself down failed. He kicked the wall and quickly turned back to the human. "You seriously ask _me_ to respect _Ferengi_ traditions?" he screamed. "Tell me you are joking! That little greedy bastard insults the entire Klingon Empire, and you ask me to respect that?" The innocent wall had to suffer another angry kick. "Please, General!" Sisko tried again, but Martok had grabbed his dagger and rushed out.

Sisko's hand reached for his comm link. "Station security. We might have an emergency at Brunt's office." "Understood, on my way!" Odo's voice replied.


	20. Arrangements

Quark was counting the earnings from lunch time, usually the busiest hours of the day except for the evening. A few Ferengi waiters were busy cleaning up tables and preparing the holosuites and gambling area for the night. Quark was about to close his books when a Klingon dagger was rammed into the bar, right between his hand and the book. The Ferengi froze in shock for a moment, then slowly managed it to look up and meet the angrily sparkling eye of General Martok.

"General..." Quark slowly tried to smile. "Can I bring you a blood wine? Its on the house!" Martok pulled the dagger out of the bar and placed himself on a bar stool. "Not now." Carefully, Quark moved his book away from the dagger to hide it in the safety behind the counter. Martok didn't try to stab his hand, he just watched it from the corner of his eye. "If I remember correctly, you were married to a Klingon woman", he said. A bit confused, Quark nodded. "But not anymore. We got divorced right after, and it was only a formal way to get back control of her house after I killed her husband..." He tried to read Martok's face, but since he failed, he quickly added: "That was an accident, really. And she wasn't exactly angry with me either." Now, Martok nodded. "No need to justify your deeds", he said. "Absolutely no need." Even more confused, Quark asked: "What is this all about? Did I also accidentally marry your daughter? Another vendetta of some sort? Did I break any Klingon rules I didn't even know about? What did I do this time?" Martok looked up. "Just the right thing", he said and grinned. Quark's instinct let him make a step back, away from the Klingon. "Thinking closer, we should have that blood wine you offered." Martok eyed the bottles behind Quark. "Unless you rather drink something else."

Now, Quark was totally confused. "You are not going to force me to drink that pee and threaten to kill me if I dishonor it?" Martok laughed. "No, I won't. As long as you don't bother me with that snail juice of yours." The Ferengi watched him suspiciously, but got two bottles and glasses. "Alright. To each his own", he said. "Are you going to tell me why you are here, without making any death threats now?"

Martok nodded and watched Quark pour the drinks. "I understand you are not too fond of the new liasion officer..." he began. "Brunt? Don't get me started!" Quark put the bottles back to the board and took his glass. "Now, unlike you..." Martok raised his glass to toast to the Ferengi. "...he isn't exactly open minded about my traditions." "I am?" Surprised, Quark smiled. The Klingon nodded and took a sip. "In fact, you are the only Ferengi I have respect for. You are true to your own kind, but you would never knowingly insult other traditions." "That's bad for business", Quark said, trying to look sincere. "I have this problem..." Martok looked thoughtful and not very threatening anymore. "See, your fellow Ferengi insists on a written contract, while the Klingon word counts more than the Klingon signature on a piece of paper. Blackmailing the humans into the contract - the content isn't all wrong, by the way - that is one thing. But I offered my word, even though the business methods are quite questionable..." "Wait. Stop. Don't say it," Quark interrupted. "This is going to end in something very painful, isn't it?" "I'm asking you to witness a Klingon blood oath." The Ferengi sighed and grabbed the blood wine bottle. "I knew it!" he said, opened the bottle and drank half of it.

Martok raised an eyebrow. "Not bad", he grinned. "So, if you decide to honor my tradition - and yes, it does include a dagger - I will respect yours." Quark shuddered and put the bottle away. "Respect what?" "If you take the oath, I make sure you'll have the bar full of Klingons tonight, for a big celebration, all willing to spend all they have for a barrel of blood wine. And because you'll be out of stock after that, I will also make sure you get a new delivery for half the price, directly from the Klingon High Command's stock." "Sounds too good for just pouring some blood", Quark replied, suspicion in his voice again. "You calculate your value the wrong way. Brunt insults my people. What bigger insult is there in return than having one of his kind to side with me?" Now Quark grinned, too. "I understand... Just, one more question... This blood oath. Does Brunt have to pour blood as well, or just you and me?" "All three of us", Martok said. Quark's grin grew bigger. "Then we have a deal."

**DS9, Promenade, Brunt's Liasion Office**

"You got your change in trading laws! Why are you still bothering me instead of importing Romulan Ale to the new markets?" Brunt yelled at the screen. "I have ships on the way, let that be my concern!" Grala's voice answered through the disturbance. "What about the weapons? Are you getting them or not?" Brunt rolled his eyes. "I told you I can't." Briefly, a flickering image showed up on the screen, revealing that Grala was all but happy. "Why not? Hell, you are on a station directly at the front. There should be more weapons than I can sell in a lifetime!" "They - are - not - trading - them!" Brunt leaned closer to the screen, as if his brother could see he was serious. "So? It works the other way round! I know the Klingon general traded with the Nausicaans!" "One sword! He bought one sword!" Brunt shouted. "The Klingons are not _selling_ weapons, how hard is that to understand?" "I don't want Klingon weapons anyways!" Grala sounded more stubborn than usual. "But the Klingons and Federation aren't the only ones around, are they? Let me tell you this, brother, you will..."

Brunt quickly switched off the screen as Captain Sisko entered the office. "I hope you aren't. Too busy?" he smiled. "No, not at all", the Ferengi smiled back. "How can I help you?" "We need to talk about the contract!" "Indeed we do!" Brunt replied. "I'm tired of waiting. So will the Klingons and Romulans sign it now?" Impatiently, his fingers drummed on the desk. "I have arranged a meeting with General Martok and Commander Telar. The rest is up to you."


	21. Trains of Thought

_**Personal Log - Weyoun**_

_Five days after the Federation took back Terok Nor, the situation has calmed down. No Dominion forces have shown up in Federation space. As far as I can tell, repairs on the station have been completed this morning. Ships are still being repaired or re-armed. Everyone seems busy. Everyone expect myself._

While Garak has attented to several meetings and debriefings, and given reports about the events during the Cardassian reign on Terok Nor, no-one has bothered to debrief me. Not that I am willing to give up certain information about the Dominion anyways, but there are in fact circumstances the Federation should be aware of. I have tried to talk to Commander Sisko, as well as General Martok and Commander Telar, but they sent me away and said they'll "get to it later" when they aren't that busy anymore. I also tried to talk to Garak, as he seemed willing to listen in the past, but he let me know he will get back when he is done with more urgent duties. I wasn't aware a simple tailor has "duties" in the first place, but I assume his person is in more demand since he was Damar's right hand, and if it only was for a short time. I even considered talking to Quark, but he isn't paying that much attention to me anymore.

My message to the Cardassian fleet has not been answered either. I'm certain Damar still uses my access codes. I have no way of knowing if he is still alive, but if he is dead - if my warning came too late - no-one will be able to encrypt the message. I shouldn't have hestiated so much in the first place. I need to tell someone, someone the Federation alliance will listen to.

Telar paced in his small, utilitarian room. Yes he could have taken the far more plush VIP residence Sisko had offered aboard the station. But he felt better here on his ship and had made it clear. There was still little room to pace in and that was a shame for Telar was in the mood for some good pacing. On his desk was the communique from the Vorta requesting a meeting in just a Federation hour, exactly where he'd put it immediately after reading. His mind running through twisting pathways, Telar worked out all possible discussions and outcomes he could imagine. What did the Vorta want? Assasination of the other leaders? No, too obvious. Maybe he wanted the leaders to THINK that. _and maybe he wants to have tea. Yes that must be it. Think Voldan._

"Commander, Sisko requests your answer"

Telar scowled at the comm and tried not to shout, "I'm coming of course. Have my security escort waiting."

"Very good sir"

Telar muttered under his breath, but started preparing.

**Deep Space Nine conference room**

Telar strode in confidently. He saw that Sisko and Weyoun were already there and took great care to look each one down his nose deliberately before taking a seat. He took some comfort in the escort standing behind him. He also took amusement from the disapproving glance Sisko gave him. The Vorta looked concerned, but not about the Romulans. "Whats this all about? I have _repairs_ that need to be tended to." Telar demanded, emphasising the point that his were the last ships to have their damage repaired. He and Sisko had already discussed this but he enjoyed taking one final stab at the topic. It worked, Sisko looked even more annoyed. Satisfied, Telar sat back and crossed his arms.

"We will DISCUSS that when. The. OTHERs get here." Sisko declared. Weyoun remained silent. Telar incline his head sharply and contentedly stared daggers at Sisko.

"Why are we here?" Martok didn't bother to take a seat and leaned on the wall next to the closed door. "Garak has provided us will all possible information we need for now." His eye angrily watched the Vorta. "Incorrect", he calmly replied, not looking at the Klingon. "Garak does not have all information."  
"You have already made. Clear that you are not! Willing to give us any tactical information on the Dominion", Sisko said, impatience in his voice. "So why did you insist on seeing US?"

Weyoun sighed. Garak's absence didn't make it any easier. Was he a traitor? His eyes wandered from one to another of the men in the room. Usually, the three of them hardly agreed on anything. But right now, they were a front against him. It would be easy to split them up, Weyoun thought. And it would be in the best interest of the Dominion to feed their mistrust. But not now.

"The situation has changed", he said. "The enemy has." "Interesting." Telar raised an eyebrow. "Very interesting. You claim to defect, and the next thing you try is to make us focus our efforts towards a 'new enemy'. But how naive do you expect us to be?" "Not as much as Damar", Weyoun replied. "With the aid of Garak, I have contacted Cardassia Prime, about eight days ago. It is no longer under Dominion control."

"Is that so?" Martok left his post next to the door, to walk around the briefing table and stop behind the Vorta. "The increasing number of Jem'Hadar ships at the Cardassian border suspiciously looks like you're lying." "I agree", Telar said and crossed his arms. "Our scans confirm that." "I didn't say Cardassia is not the enemy anymore", Weyoun slowly replied. "I also didn't say the Jem'Hadar weren't present anymore." "GET! To the point!" Sisko insisted. "Cardassia, and the Jem'Hadar currently in the alpha quadrant, are under the control of Gul Dukat", the Vorta said sharply. "Why do you think I'm still here? Because I feel so welcome?"

A bit puzzled, Sisko looked over to Martok, then Telar. "Are we supposed to believe this story?" the Romulan finally asked. "No. Of course not." Weyoun crossed his arms. "I defected for the sheer fun of it! Because I had nothing else to do! Because I like you all so much!"

"This is a waste of time." Martok returned to the door. "I still have limited access to Cardassian communication channels. Some codes have not been changed", Weyoun said, staring at the table. "I have been monitoring them as much as possible. The Founder is dead. And Dukat's orders indicate that he..." He broke up. "Indicate what?" Sisko asked, still not sounding too convinced. Weyoun sighed silently, then he looked up to the human. "I think that he wants to bring the Jem'Hadar troops still in the gamma quadrant under his control, and challenge the Founders. He wants... the entire Dominion."

"How?" Telar watched the Vorta closely. Something told him there was really more to it than it seemed at first. Weyoun's eyes wandered from Sisko over to the Romulan. "When I was still on Cardassia, we have tried to contact the Breen and offer them an alliance. We never got a reply. But..." "But WHAT?" Martok growled. "There is a new code in the communication now. One that neither Cardassians nor Dominion use", the Vorta said. "I can't be certain, but it may mean that there is another party involved now." "Can you prove _any_ of that?" Telar asked after a short moment of perfect silence.

Weyoun's hand reached in his pocket, and he pulled out a data disc. "These are my access codes. Some are still working. See for yourself."

**Some minutes later, outside the conference room**

Was it the right thing to do? Weyoun was still not sure. Did he defect? Did he betray the Dominion? Did Cardassia still count as Dominion, after all? His thoughts ended in a sudden when he was pushed against the wall, and felt the cold steel of a Klingon dagger on his throat.

"Why?"

Martok's eye glittered angrily. "Answer me." "You could have asked me without putting a dagger to my throat", Weyoun replied. For a brief moment, Martok seemed to grin. "I know", he said. "But I had the choice. Now why are you really doing this? What trap did you set up?" "There is no trap", the Vorta said, carefully trying to wind himself out of Martok's hold. It didn't work. "If I didn't make myself clear, I'm not 'doing this' to help _you_. I 'do this' because I fear Dukat will conquer _my_ people, _my_ home and _my_ gods. And if he really has an alliance with the Breen, trust me, you'll need any help you can get, and you can't afford to question the motivation behind it."

Telar frowned at the disc. It was closer to Sisko, but the other man made no move to pick it up. "Well arent you going to try it?" Sisko sat up as if startled, "Hmm?" he looked at the disk, "I suppPOSE that would. Be a good! Idea." Telar glared as Sisko took the disc. The human put it in and nodded, either solemnly or discouragedly. Human emotions could be complicated. Telar fairly fumed until at last, Sisko spoke.

"Wey-oun was, right. Dukat IS in. Command."

Telar stared impassively, but with fire in his eyes. He stood and strode toward the door. Sisko glanced up, "Wait, don't you want to. Know what else I! Found?" Telar sniffed, "I know enough. I'm sure you'll brief me on the rest. It seems more important right now to have my ship at battle readiness."


	22. Shop Talk

"I really don't see anything wrong, Garak." Bashir shook his head at the tricorder, and then at the padd that he held.

"Are you sure, Doctor?" Garak sat up from the diagnostic chair. He gave Bashir an intense, worried face.

Bashir resisted a misplaced grin at the earnest expression on the tailor's face and handed him the padd, "See for yourself. You know, sometimes, people just have bad dreams."

"Oh, this went _beyond_ a simple nightmare," Garak shuddered, glancing over the readouts.

Bashir sighed, "with the stress everyone's been under lately, it would surprise me if no one else was having particularly bad nights. And for a while there, you were right in the middle of the action."

"So what you're saying," Garak's eyes flicked upward as his voice became laced with sarcasm, "is that I need to recover from the traumatic experience of being second-in-command of the station?"

Bashir rolled his eyes, "What I'm SAYING is that this will probably go away in a few days." Bashir took the padd back, "And if it doesn't, you know where to find me." He turned and started working with a console.

Garak half-lounged in the chair and gazed thoughtfully at the back of Bashir's head, "What about you, Doctor? You've seemed a bit more irritable than usual lately."

"Thank you for your concern," Bashir said without turning around, "but I'm perfectly fine."

"I see," Garak replied, standing. He straightened his tunic and walked up to just behind the doctor, "Well, if you suddenly find yourself in the mood to talk, YOU know where to find ME"

Garak returned to his quarters, noticing for the first time that a message had come in from Sisko requesting that he attend a meeting. The meeting had been called by Weyoun and had begun three hours ago. _Most likely, I missed it_ Garak thought, disappointed, _but I might still be able to find out what it was about._ He turned around and walked straight back out the door. He found Sisko in his office.

"Captain! Permission to enter?" Garak stepped into the office.

Sisko glared, "Garak, WHERE have you. Been? I had three people ask. Today. When the Tailor shop would. Be. Open again. I didn't even Know. It had been closed."

"I see," Garak nodded, "but this really isn't about the shop, is it?"

Sisko narrowed his eyes, "you missed a very. Important meeting. Today."

"You mean the one that Weyoun called," Garak nodded, "yes, I just saw the message. What was it about?"

"IF you had GONE," Sisko growled, "you. Would have. Known."

"You could always fill me in," Garak chided.

"I could," Sisko replied, "but I'm not. Sure how it would _help_. The situation."

Garak gave the floor a passing glance, "True, I may not have much influence anywhere at the moment..."

"That's not. What I'm talking a-bout," Sisko raised an eyebrow, "I'm talking. About YOUR. mysterious lack...of avaliability lately. Weyoun said that. You'd been busy with. URGENT. duties." The captain stared Garak in the eyes, "What. Ever. You're up to. I _know_ it's not tailoring. And I want to know what it. IS."

"Yes," Garak said, "I'm sure you do."

"Garak..." Sisko warned.

Garak shook his head, "All I can say is that it is a matter of great importance to you and the Federation. I really can't tell you more. Not yet. It's for your own protection, I can assure you."

"I. Don't. Feel. Assurred." Sisko spat, his hands as tightly bound by his fingers as the baseball on his desk. He spun the chair around and gazed at the stars. After a pause of about a month, the captain spoke, "I still don't understand. Why you helped Damar take. Over the station in the first place. I don't understand why. You helped, Us, get it back. I'm glad you did. That's why I. WANT. to trust you now." He spun the chair back around to look at the Cardassian, "But you. Know as well, as I do. That's not possible."

"You're a wise man, Captain," Garak's eyes glinted dangerously. For a moment, a black shadow leapt from them and captured the meaning of his words. Then it was gone as if it had never existed. With a deliberately insincere smile, Garak continued, "but lately, the impossible has been happening far more frequently."

Sisko tilted his head, but didn't press the matter further. His finger tapped the top of his baseball a few times as he thought. He looked sideways at Garak. "All right. Weyoun provided us with the information that Cardassia, and the Jem Hadar in the Alpha Quadrant, are now. Under the control. of Gul. Du-KAT."

Garak blinked, "Well, that IS bad news."

"You. Already knew. Didn't you?" Sisko looked suspicious again.

"Oh, no," Garak admitted, "not that particular information. The information I have is almost completely unrelated."

"That's not. Comforting," Sisko sighed.

"It's not meant to be," Garak turned for the door, "will that be all?"

Sisko nodded, looking drained.

Garak paused before leaving, "Oh, by the way," He smiled, "you may tell my customers that the shop will be open later today."

Garak had left only a few minutes ago when Dr. Bashir was disturbed in his research project again.

"I require medical assistance!"

Bashir looked up from his work and turned around to the door. "I hope I can help you", he said. "We don't know much about Vorta yet." Weyoun came closer, pointing at his throat. "My skin has been damaged." "Hm." Bashir got up to take a closer look. "Its barely a scratch." He reached for a skin regenerator. "Does it cause you any trouble? Pain? Numb feeling?" "No, not at all." Weyoun held still while the skin regenerator repaired the barely visible scratch Martok's dagger had caused. "That was it. Damage undone." Bashir lowered the device. "And you are sure that was all?"

Weyoun's eyes wandered through the infirmary. "Yes and no." "Well", Bashir shrugged and returned to his desk. "Once you decided, let me know."


	23. Romulans and Mercy

_**Personal Log - Gul Corat Damar**_

_We are stranded. 12 hours ago, the last functional tractor beams failed. Only 3 cruisers still have impulse power, communications are jammed on most ships. Damn Ferengi virus. Stayed dorment for days, then hit hard. We can be glad we still have life support. According to our sensor readings, we should have reached the Cardassian border days ago, but since it was confirmed that the virus also effected our navigation systems, I'm not surprised we are... wherever. Our readings are going nuts, nothing makes sense, and we are running out of power and supplies. Most of the cruisers were evacuated and we dragged them along with the tractor beams. Guess we did for nothing. We won't reach Cardassia._

Though we have no idea where we are, I must consider to abandon the fleet. As long as we still have transporters, we can at least save our lives and beam down to a planet. Maybe we manage it to land a ship, and repair communication systems to send a distress call. The few shuttles we have left are on the way to get information about the planets in range. I don't trust the sensors; I rather have someone take a look if the planet is really habitable.

Computer, save and exit...

Damar sighed and turned the screen on his desk on. There had to be a way out of this. The damn Ferengi virus jammed all Cardassian communications, even between the ships in sight. The commanders had to beam over to the Tekera every six hours to report. Damar took a brief look at the time. The next briefing would be soon. And he didn't look foreward to it. Deep inside, he knew it was about time to make the choice and tell the others to abandon the ships. Blind, without sensors and long range scanners, they had no way of knowing if they'd get a second chance; reach another system with habitable planets before they ran out of power.

The door to his ready room opened, and his first officer's face appeared. "We are ready for the briefing", he said. Damar slowly nodded. "Send them in."

Repairs were almost complete aboard the _Ra'khoi_ and it was almost time to return to active service of the Romulan Star Empire, as the Federations called it. Telar strode through his vessel, making sure that his officers were working their hardest. The sooner they could get away from this station the better. Orders had come straight from the top. The _Ra'khoi_ was to lead the fleet in building up the borders. If there was a serious new threat from Cardassian space the homeworlds must be protected. The Empire could not fall.

"What are you gawking at?" Telar demanded unfairly of an officer who had merely glanced his way, "Get back to work or become part of the bulkhead!"

He continued on, barking orders and throwing insults around. The _Ra'khoi_ ought to be leading a first strike. If Dukat was truly in command of the Jem'Hadar then time should not be wasted in simply building up the already well-guarded borders. _I should watch myself carefully_ Telar thought _such thoughts could lead to rash actions_.

_**Personal Log - Gul Corat Damar**___

We landed the Tekera after transporting the crews of the other ships down to the planet. There was nothing we could do to land any other ships after loosing navigantional controls on them. They are dead in space, most lost life support or artifical gravitation while we evacuated.  
We managed it to canibalize some parts of the 3 shuttles that returned after scouting the solar system - which ever it may be - and set up an automated distress call. I only hope we are anywhere near an advanced culture, and I honestly don't even care who they are. The system has only 2 planets; one a gas giant, one... a piece of deserted rocks. That's where we are... We. Over 1000 Cardassian soldiers in the face of a meaningless death, far from home.

If we still have a home at all. Before ripping the Tekera apart, I went through all channels, trying to send a message, no matter where. On Weyoun's diplomacy channel, I briefly got a signal. With all the disturbances, I couldn't understand much of the message. Only one thing was more than clear, and I don't know what to think about it...

"Do not return to Cardassia."

I'm sober since 6 days and start to realize how foolish I must have been. I'd give my right arm for some water now, but I'm not sure a bottle of Kanar would be worth any of my limbs. Clarity hit me hard, slapped me in the face and kicked me when I was already on the ground. Now I know I overestimated myself. An insight that may come too late to correct my mistakes.

I shouldn't have tried to double cross the Dominion. I thought its so genius. First let Weyoun admit he came to my quarters to kill me that night, then ask him to drink the poison to prove he's sincere about our plans. It was _genius. But I didn't see the bigger picture. I lost control of the situation. Now, Weyoun is on Terok Nor, safe and sound, with more Kanar than he can drink in his life. Lives. Whatever. And I'm on a dry desert planet, running out of food and water. How genius._

It's all Dukat's fault. If he hadn't promoted Toran over me, I wouldn't have started playing games.

Space. Wonderful empty space. Oh look. A small planetary system barely worth looking at.

Telar dosed in his command chair, eyes open to check on the nothing they were protecting from the nonexistant Dominion attack forces. He smiled as he imagined Orion slave girls instead. Green skin...dancing...

"Commander! We're picking up multiple targets...a fleet of ships...near that dead planet!" Telar blinked and was fully awake. He narrowed his eyes and sat forward, "What ships?" "Cardassian, sir. But there's no life signs and the ships appear to be dead in space." Telar frowned _it could be a Cardassian trick_. The offficer continued, "We ARE picking up life sign readings on the planet." "How many?" Telar demanded. "Approximately 1,000 sir, possibly more." _Aha, they had to abandon ship for some reason._ "Hail the ships, in case there actually IS someone on board, and ready a boarding party. I want anything of use or military value. Make sure they are HEAVILY armed." The hint of a smile tugged at Telar's mouth as he contemplated his position. "Sir, shouldn't we contact the..." "I'LL make a report to my superiors when I have something to report!" Telar exploded for a moment. He then calmly took a seat and nodded, "You have your orders."

_Now, what to do about the Cardassians on the surface? Hmmm._


	24. The Signal

"Gul Damar, the sensors are picking up something!"

Glinn Berat's face appeared in the door to the remains of Damar's ready room. Slowly, he looked up. "Care to be a _bit_ more precise?" he asked sharply. Berat shook his head. "We can't say what it is. Could be a ship, could be an electromagnetic storm, could be a solar flare." Damar sighed and got up, giving Berat an angry glance. "Then why are you still standing here? Go and work on it! If it is a ship, we need to find a way to send a message!" Berat quickly nodded and headed out.

Damar slowly went over to the window. No more flashing lights of stars, just the endless dry desert of an unknown planet. But there was hope now. Just, if it really was a ship... Was it here for his rescue? The options were endless without knowing where in the damn universe he was. What if it was a Federation ship? Fight and die for Cardassia with pride? Surrender and hope to escape later?

_Do not return to Cardassia._

In Damar's memory, Weyoun's voice was not disturbed by frequency. What had happened? Did Cardassia fall? Impossible! Impossible? What if there was a Cardassian ship in orbit? Would it really be the way home? Was there a home? Could it even be here to finally eliminate him and his fleet? These men out there trusted him. And he sure hadn't given them the best reasons. This time, no matter what would come, he wouldn't lead them into failure. This time, he would do the right thing. Whatever that was. Whatever the cost.

Telar paced now, between boredom and pensive. He still waited for any communication from his boarding party. "Sir, we're recieving a transmission from the surface!" an officer cried, "audio only." "Put it through!" barked Telar, caught momentarily off guard and not liking the feeling. Static blasted through the ship's speakers.

"Enhance the signal!" Telar ordered, "I want to hear it!"

The disturbance was still annoying when the signal was enhanced as much as possible, but at least, Telar could understand the words now.

"...out of food and water... ready to surrender... do not access computers on ships in orbit... quarantine... unless you... Ferengi... tactical information about Cardassia Prime..."

The rest of the sentences was swallowed by the interference. Telar raised an eyebrow. _Now this is very interesting..._ he thought, carefully considering the options.


	25. Visitors

Garak took all time in the universe before he looked up from his work. Of course he had heard the visitor. But from the corner of his eye, the Cardassian had also seen it was unlikely a regular customer. Perhaps not a customer at all. What would a person with no sense for aesthetics want to order from a tailor? The latest fashion? Certainly not. But Garak was also aware of the challenge. Weyoun was likely the closest thing to an equal opponent when it came to disguises, lies and misleading hints on this station.

Garak was also aware that he had missed his chance to make the first move in this game. The strange feeling he had since the occupation ended had been quite distracting. And Weyoun had made his opening move by suddenly deciding to give up important information. He had invited Garak to the briefing, along with 3 men in way more powerful positions. And Garak felt it was an invitation to join this game. His move.

After a felt eternity, he finally looked up from the dress he was working on. "How can I help you?" he smiled. "Have you decided to take my advise and change your wardrobe?" Weyoun just stood there and looked at him in a way Garak couldn't really sort in. _How fun!_ he thought, realizing the excitement about not being able to read someone's intentions from his face at first sight.

"I think... I need..." Weyoun's eyes wandered through the shop, drifing over suits and dresses aimlessly. "A new suit, maybe?" Garak tried to help, well aware that this was probably the most unlikely answer Weyoun would give. "...advise", he said instead, his glance came to a hold on Garak's face. "Of course!" the Cardassian smiled, not willing to give up the game yet. "I'm an expert in this field, I'm sure we can find a new outfit for you that will..." "I need no new clothes", Weyoun broke him up. "Then why did you come to a tailor?" Garak replied, showing his best and most sincere version of surprise.

"Did you betray Cardassia?" The Vorta's eyes started wandering again. If Garak hadn't known better, he would have said Weyoun looked bored. "Now, that's quite a personal question", he smiled. "Why would you think I did?" "You are here." Weyoun sounded bored, too. Or was it something else? This was a challenge, something Garak had missed a bit. Things had all been too clear and too easy in the past weeks. "I had no reason to leave", he said. "It seemed too much of a risk to give up a well going tailor business for an uncertain career on Cardassia. But that doesn't mean I never considered this option." Weyoun nodded, still distracted by something that was not in this room.

"Do you think I made the right choice?" He looked back to Garak. "Who am I to judge your decisions?" the tailor shrugged, putting a small dose surprise in his voice, a small dose shock, and a tiny dose offense. "You are the only one on this station who may know what I'm talking about", Weyoun said. "You had the chance to return to your people. But you didn't. You could have done nothing in all this, yet you helped Damar take the station, and then you helped the Federation to take it back. You influenced things, though you didn't have to do it. Not for yourself. Not for anyone else's well being. And as much as I understand the attraction of playing games and pulling strings, I somehow don't think you did all this for your personal entertainment. You are not a man who does things without reason."

An equal opponent. Garak hadn't expected him to give up so much of his real reason to visit him that soon. Now it was on him to chose the next step in this game. All in. "So you are asking me for advise what to do now?" he asked. "Kind of", Weyoun replied. "I'm not used to have nothing to do. And I wonder if there is, or ever will be, something to do for me on this station. People will never really trust me, and my talents can't be put to use without trust. Only a fool would give me access to tactical information, intelligence reports or even a military command. Not now, not later."

"Don't be so sure", Garak smiled. "I never thought people would trust me. I'm the enemy, just like you. And yes, it is strange to suddenly be trusted, especially if you never gave anyone a reason to trust you. Actually, I'm still not all comfortable with it myself. If you want my advise... Don't rush things. Just find something to keep you busy for a while and see what happens."

"That is my problem", Weyoun said. "I don't know how to keep myself busy. The Found... Odo... won't give me orders." "Well, maybe it is time you decide for yourself what you want to do." Garak still tried to read the Vorta's face. "Is there nothing you could never do because of your duties in the Dominion? Many species have so-called hobbies. Things they do for fun and entertainment. I myself occassionaly play tennis, an earth game, with Dr. Bashir." When Weyoun didn't react, Garak continued: "Maybe you want to take a look at the data base, and find something you want to try." "I already know what I _want_", the Vorta said, slowly. "See?" Garak smiled. "Then you just have to try it. You have the time for it now. What is it?"

Now the Vorta looked sad, and he made no attempt to hide it. "I just want to go home", he said. "You know as well as I do that I can't do that." Garak said nothing; he felt caught off guard for a moment. Weyoun didn't wait for an answer. He turned to leave. "Maybe I should try this tennis", Garak heard him say when he left the shop.

Commander Telar steepled his fingers. Not that he habitually did so but he had once seen a Vulcan do it quite often when thinking and it always seemed to work. THe truth of the matter was, there wasn't much thinkint to do. Actually, the course seemed quite clear.

"Well, it sounds as though our friends on the surface need help." Telar smiled vaguely savagely, "And I'd be inclined to give it to them if..." He trailed off, knowing that the sentance need not be finished.

"Our stores are full, Commander," came the reply Telar wanted to hear. His smile stretching far beyond vague, Telar dropped his hands to his knees and sat forward slightly. There was almost a sneer on his lips as he gave the order to arrange for a "rescue party" of thirty heavily armed men. "And don't forget to bring along a crate of supplies. We musn't be stingy, after all."

As various officers stood to join the team Telar himself also stood. By the slight tilt of the sharply angled faces around him, the commander could tell that his officers were surprised that he would risk himself on first contact with these people. But most of these officers were too young to remember the old Telar. The Telar who never backed down from a challenge, never sat back in the shadows to allow lesser men the honor of defending the Empire.

Even more confusing was his choice of weapons. However many of his men did know him well enough to understand that his reason for bringing the oversized rifle had nothing to do with firepower.

Still, they were not aware that the commander's Honor Blade had been sharpened and polished for the occasion.

Telar stepped into the transporter alongside the first wave of Romulan officers.

They don't remember those days. Not yet.

Of all the space travelling species, it had to be Romulans.

Damar quietly sighed when one of soldiers briefly appeared in his door, nodded to signal there was no fight outside, and disappeared again. Romulans were, after all, still better than the Borg, Damar thought in an attempt to see things from a not completely desperate point of view.

When he stepped outside, a Romulan Commander, displaying a huge rifle, stood between some of his men, unpacking supplies from cargo crates. He looked around, scanning the progress and possible set ups, then his eyes met the Cardassian. Quickly, they checked the rank, but the Commander didn't make any effort to walk towards his Cardassian counterpart. Damar made his way through scattered parts of equipment and wreckage until he reached Telar.

"Let's get through with the formalities first", he said, somehow amusing himself with his words. "We surrender at your terms. Did we violate your territory or something? If so, yeah, we'll stand trial and all; I bet even your prisons are a better place to spend the rest of our life than this... piece of rock." Telar raised an eyebrow, thinking. This wasn't exactly the welcome he had expected. But maybe it would make things even easier than he thought. He decided to play along - for now. His glance drifted over the damaged ship, then back to Damar. "Oh, no worries about politics. It's obvious you didn't intend to violate any territories." Looking briefly to his rifle, he added: "But I assume you understand we had to take certain precautions before we transported down. You must admit, your people have a habit of tricks and traps. After all, we are still on war, aren't we?"

For a moment, Damar didn't react at all. Then, he slowly said: "I can't be certain. I can only tell you that I don't intend to return to Cardassia until I get further information about the situation there." Telar nodded, lingering. "So you know things have changed?" Damar sighed. "What do I know? I sit on this rock without communications. I barely know anything, except I was warned to not return to Cardassia Prime." "Interesting", the Romulan said, more to himself. "That warning... It didn't come from the Vorta by any chance?" Immediately, Damar went into caution mode. "How do you know that?" he asked. "He shared certain insights with the Federation, the Klingons and me. Yet he isn't willing to give up the really interesting parts." He paused, then added: "It's a pity the Federation won't allow me to... investigate further. I assume a Cardassian commander wouldn't hestitate there..." "Your assumption is correct, especially when it comes to this particular informer", Damar nodded. "However, maybe we can help each other to fill in some blanks. I certainly have no love for the Dominion, so here's the deal... I share any tactical information I have, you make sure the attacks are focussed on these forsaken Jem'Hadar and the Cardassian casualties are kept low. And while we're at it, chit chatting about the war and where the Dominion may or may not have spies, secret facilities or so, we have some Romulan Ale."


	26. Disturbances

Quark tapped a rhythm along the top of his bar counter. This was the part of bartending he hated-when there was no one to tend. Wait, could that be? Could someone be coming? He perked up immediately and put on his charm like an overcoat. It deflated a moment later when he realized that it was only the station's security officer.

"Oh, it's you." Quark sighed.

"With that attitude, it's no wonder you're having a quiet day," Odo observed.

Quark glared. He had enough problems without getting business comments from Odo. He bit his tongue before saying so and instead gave the changeling a mock smile.

"All right, what can I get for you, Constable?" Quark asked innocently. To his surprise, Odo took a seat on one of the barstools.

"Information," Odo grunted, as if he was sacrificing dignity in asking.

Quark shrugged, "on what? The ingredients for a Grethellan Rainbow? What Ensign Roberts had for dinner last night?"

Odo glanced sideways, "No, I want to know everything you know about what's going on with the Cardassian government. I know there's something that I'm being kept in the dark about and I want to know what it is."

Quark shook his head, "And you're coming to me?" He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or suspicious. He settled for both.

"I know you have connections," Odo replied as if by explanation.

"I'm not the only person on the station with connections to that side of space," Quark frowned, "why choose me? Why not Garak? Or that Vorta? Or Morn?" From the far side of the room, Morn turned his head slightly. Odo sighed.

"All that you need to know is that I have my reasons," Odo growled.

"And I have my own reasons for not disclosing information learned from my business partners." Quark replied haughtily.

"Then I have no reason not to 'disclose information' learned _about_ certain of your 'business partners'," Odo said shrewdly.

Quark paused, "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" Odo's face may have shifted slightly, or perhaps it was just his eyes.

A silent moment passed. Another followed it.

"Okay," Quark relented, dropping his voice, "but I only do this for customers. And you'd better order something anyway so you don't appear suspicious."

"I don't drink." Odo stated.

"I know that," Quark nodded, "but who else does?"

Odo rolled his eyes, "Fine."

Quark pulled out a glass and grinned, "That'll be two strips of latinum."

"I know I'm not disturbing", Brunt said when he entered Weyoun's quarters before getting a reply from the inhabitant of the quarters. And he couldn't have been more right. He found Weyoun sitting on his sofa, starring at the door like hypnotized, and not even reacting on his appearance. A bit irritated he made so little of an impression, Brunt stepped closer towards the sofa and coffee table, and let the door close behind him. Finally, the Vorta paid attention.

"How can I help you?"

He still stared through the Ferengi, and sounded more like a recording of himself. "I assume you were expecting someone else?" Brunt guessed. Weyoun nodded slowly. "I asked the F... Odo to see me. But I guess he has to attend more important duties." "In fact, I saw him in Quark's on the way here", Brunt said and placed himself in a chair. "Ironic, isn't it?" Now Weyoun looked over to him. "What is ironic?" he asked. "How our own people place others over us. I mean, Quark doesn't trust me as far as he can spit, and your changeling ignores you whenever possible. And now they sit together and drink." "That is ironic, yes", the Vorta agreed, though he still didn't seem overly interested in the conversation.

"I was thinking", Brunt continued, "that we should maybe try to sort out our differences, just to balance it out." Weyoun's face showed slight confusion. "What differences? I wasn't aware of us having any." Brunt performed his version of a friendly grin. "I'm so glad to hear you say that. I was really worried you'd take it personal that I ended the occupation of the station." "You did?" Weyoun watched Brunt a bit puzzled. "Well, if so, I'm glad you did."

For a moment, the big grin made room for surprise on the Ferengi's face. "You are glad the Dominion lost the station?" he slowly asked. Weyoun nodded silently. "Well, I hadn't expected you to go that far", Brunt admitted. "But it just makes things easier, doesn't it?" "What things?" the Vorta asked, still barely interested. Brunt sighed and took a deep breathe.  
"We are in the same boat here. The way I see it, we both did the Federation and their allies some big favours. I got them the firepower to liberate the station, you gave them certain information about the situation on Cardassia..." "How do you know about that?" Weyoun interrupted, suddenly paying more attention to his uninvited guest. "I have my sources", Brunt said calmly. "However, look at what we got in return. My own kind betrays me; Quark has agreed to witness a Klingon blood oath where I insist on a written contract, like a real Ferengi does. Sisko has signed the contract, yet does he do anything to make the Klingons and Romulans sign? No, he probably even finds it amusing to force the blood oath on me." He paused, but before Weyoun could comment, he continued: "And look at you. They ignore you. All of them. Instead of thanking you for the information, they move on and act like its worth nothing. But you bet its worth more than they would ever admit."

Suddenly, Weyoun got up and began walking up and down in the room. "So you correctly observed that these people aren't exactly thankful", he said. "That occured to me as well. However, I don't understand what you suggest here. Maybe you could simply tell me why you are here, beyond stating the obvious."

The sudden change of the Vorta caught Brunt off guard. "Well... I suggest we... combine our sources", he finally mumbled. Weyoun stopped behind his chair. "It sounds like an option worth to discuss", he said. "What exactly did you have in mind?"


	27. Talk and Romulan Ale

Telar nodded, noting a peculiar gleam in the eye of the Cardassian commander at the mention of the Romulan Ale. He gestured in the direction he had come.

"Very well, I do happen to have an ample supply of Ale on board my ship. If you would not mind joining me there we would be far more comfortable in my office than on this 'rock' as you called it."

This just gets better and better, Damar thought. He looked at the very armed Romulan, "Do I have a choice?"

Sighing, Telar set down his gun and showed the Cardassian his open hands, "I meant it as a courtesy, not an offense, no matter how you choose to take it. I know that Cardassians aren't renowned for their hearing, but pointed ears hear much." He looked meaningfully at the Romulan guards unpacking, "sometimes, they can hear over great distances. Therefore, I prefer to take precautions. However, if it better suits you, we could discuss the very inner workings of your world right here. It does not matter to me."

"I would offer you a seat, but as you can see..." Telar waited for Damar to enter the small ready room before following him inside. "I sat on a rock long enough", the Cardassian replied. "Very well." The Romulan went around his desk and sat down on his chair. "Now, how do you suggest we proceed?" He watched Damar carefully, waiting for the direction to take from here. "It depends" Damar said just as carefully. "I made my offer. Its on you to take it or leave it. And us." Telar nodded. "Let me be frank. My Federation and Klingon allies seem to be a bit aimless at the moment. You and I, we are the ones taking the situation more serious. At least, you followed the Vorta's warning, so I assume you had your doubts about your position and orders before."  
"I made myself clear", Damar replied. "I'm tired of the Dominion. The sooner they go back to their gamma quadrant, the better. For all of us. If you have any suggestions how to speed it up, I'm all for it." "Currently, I'm more concerned about _your_ people", Telar said. "So the warning had a reason beyond another stupid Vorta joke, yes?"

The Romulan nodded. "Let me tell you something. I give my ships the order to beam up your men. Your ships are beyond repair anyways." He smiled at the thought of his cargo bays. "There is a Romulan border outpost, not too far from here. There we can discuss our options to speed up certain events." "Are we going there as prisoners or... guests?" Damar asked. "It depends", Telar replied. "On what you can tell me about Gul Dukat." Now Damar grinned. "I can tell you that I wouldn't mind seeing him disappear to the gamma quadrant either. That, and nearly everything there is to know about him."

Bashir slumped into a chair at the back of Quark's. It had been a long day. Everyone in the station seemed to have suffered fractures and muscle pulls and headaches and dislocated joints in between the usual exams and laboratory studies. He hadn't had the diversion of holosuite time. Garak had cancelled lunch, expressing his apologies and stating that he had far too much mending to catch up on. Now, the Cardassian was nowhere to be found.

But Odo was there. Talking to Quark. This piqued Bashir's interest, as the security chief wasn't speaking loudly and didn't appear to be accusing the Ferengi of anything. He appeared to be having a drink with him! Quark was talking quietly, and Bashir found himself wishing he had a pair of Ferengi ears, himself. Curiously, Bashir leaned casually in the direction of the bar, hoping to catch the subject of their conversation.

"...freight...and then...but...they didn't...shipment...Cardassia..." Quark's voice dropped even quieter then, and Bashir strained to hear, "...as far as I know...a...must...Garak...involved..."

_Garak! What is Garak up to now?_ Bashir wondered, but Odo spoke now, and his words were completely inaudible. Frustrated and intrigued, Bashir tried to move closer. He saw Odo set the glass of un-drunk liquid back on the counter and stand up to leave. Quark picked up the glass and handed it to a passing waiter, smirking. "Can I get you anything else, Constable?"

"No," Odo replied, "that will be enough." And he left.

Disappointed, Bashir sat back into his chair, watching Quark return to counting latinum. _Well, now I know that something is definitely going on. But what could it possibly be?_


End file.
